


Reclamation of Erebor

by Winnett



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, College, First Time, Gigolas Big Bang, Hand Jobs, M/M, One cliché, Pining, Road Trips, Scholar!Bilbo, Sexting, Thranduil isn't a total jerk, a touch of crack, because it seemed cute when I read it once, but he's a natural, dragon sickness is a virus, dwarven bead cliché, elves glow, overuse of parentheticals, student!gimli, tweed!legolas, virgin!legolas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 01:49:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 55,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4203354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winnett/pseuds/Winnett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One hundred years ago a deadly virus hit Erebor and twisted many dwarves, elves and men into gollums: greedy, light-hating raw-foodest creatures.  Many dwarves escaped Erebor before the virus affected them and traveled to other mountains all over Middle-earth, leaving their home behind forever.</p><p>Today, Thorin (King in Exile, Sustainable Developer) finds himself tongue-tied by a handsome Hobbit, and Legolas (Prince of Mirkwood, Professor of Botany) is flummoxed by a red-headed Dwarf that answers his Heart Song.  This is their love story.</p><p>(A completely awkward love story that includes a gathering of dwarves, two elves, and a hobbit who go to reclaim Erebor for the King in Exile.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: So, this is a modern AU, but they are still elves and dwarves and hobbits. Also, I read a story once where elves glowed, I thought it was cute, so I've included it in my own story. Elves are made of starlight, and that light shows through… or something like that. I hope you enjoy. Thank you to megyal, emansil, and sailor2moons for the beta work!
> 
> Translations used within the story:  
> "Le melin, Gimli. Ilyamenie lle. lle ier inauthnin. Amin. Amin". - I love you, Gimli, Always you. You are my heart. Mine. Mine.
> 
> Meleth nin - my love  
> Ghivashel – Treasure of all treasures  
> Adad – father

Chapter 1

The chalk skipped over the blackboard as Legolas explained the 101 class' assignment in elegant cursive. (Well as elegant as you can get in Westron.) "Everyone, take your terrarium home tonight. It is your responsibility until the end of the semester." The clack clack of the chalk and his voice were the only sounds in the room. "You will write a 10-page paper discussing your observations and the relationship between the animal and plant organisms, and botanical respiration and photosynthesis. Be sure to include variables throughout the next semester, including hours of light and moisture."

He turned to face the class, cataloging the students. Three dwarves had registered for Botony 101, and their scowls impressively attempted to burn a hole into his chest as the three diligently took notes in their binders. Two elves sat in the back, still and attentive. The rest were human.

"Class dismissed."

A young woman of the human persuasion seemed unable to remember she had books and should take notes, and that it was time for her to leave. Legolas nodded at her. "You can go now."

"Oh, ye-yes sir." She didn't move.

Legolas sighed. (Was she new? He couldn't be her first elf.) He dimmed down his glow.

"Well, good day to you. Don't forget your terrarium."

Legolas slipped his tweed jacket over his pale blue dress shirt, grabbed his bag with his class notes, and left his classroom and the half dozen humans who still hadn't blinked themselves back into action.

Perhaps they should take Professor Eomer's class on biology instead of botany for their physical sciences credit. Next year it would be their only choice. Legolas had finally caved to his father's urgings to go on his Mate Sabbatical. To find his Heart Song, or someone who stirred him into deeper feelings than friendship. Though honestly, working at one of the most prestigious colleges of Middle-earth and still not coming across his Heart left Legolas with little hope. Perhaps he or she wasn't born yet. Or had died already. For many elves it never happened. Though, perhaps it was better this way, instead of pining away for a love lost a century ago like Elrohir.

The hallways of the Rohan Hall, housing most of the earth science classes, were crowded as students scurried off to their next classes. All years, freshman to seniors, stomped through, some calling out to friends, others on phones making plans. Really, with his hearing, nothing was a secret. Legolas lifted his leather bag and riffled around for his own phone, not paying much attention to where he was going, when someone solid bumped into him.

"Oh, excuse me."

A red-headed dwarf with a trim beard in a Sons of Erebor T-shirt and a red flannel shirt over that blinked up at him. The dwarf's eyes widened. 

Legolas narrowed his. A tune, low and faint, filled him. Not collected by his ears, but it reverberated through his chest, settling comfortably into something deeper. Something about this dwarf seemed… "Do I know you?"

The dwarf looked dazed. Was he high? He lifted his hand, as if to reach out to Legolas, then shook his head, took a step back, turned and fled down the hall, dodging through the stream of students.

Legolas watched him, feeling a mild numbness spread through his limbs. His head spun and he had to lean against the wall. Almost like taking too much of Bilbo's Old Toby. He rubbed his knuckles over his breastbone, right above his heart. When the feeling faded, Legolas chalked it up to being famished, and went to meet his friend at Smaug's.

~~~

Gimli couldn't breathe. He flat out couldn't get a breath. By Mahal. That elf was beautiful. His hair, it reminded him of the singer Lady Galadriel (whose posters lined his closet back at home). Mid-back in length, blond as spun gold, and silky. So amazingly silky. Gimli had almost stroked it. He wanted to stroke it.

Now, hiding in the bathroom on the 2nd floor of Rohan Hall, utterly aghast, he stroked something else.

~~~

Smaug's Bar was the local hotspot for all things inebriant. They had wine and beer, as any respectable bar would, as well as some dwarven mead and ale. They had elven malbec and some amazing brandies and liquors from the lands west of the Misty Mountains. If you wanted it, it could most likely be found at Smaug's. But the wide variety wasn't the only thing Smaug's was famous for. That honor mostly relied on DragonFire (tm).

DragonFire (tm) was like nothing else. Consisting of five different shots of hard liquor (including cinnamon graff), some ground brimble weed seed, lime juice and the Secret Ingredient, it made an elf glow blue.

Some said the Secret Ingredient was a dash of lava from Mr. Doom. Others said it was a coal from Aule's forges. Someone had once suggested it was salamander spit. However, the consensus from most was that it was a tiny drop of dragon fire (literally) from the bar's namesake: Smaug the Fire Drake.

Only Bofur the dwarf, the owner of Smaug's and creator of DragonFire (tm), truly knew what that last all-important ingredient was, and he wasn't telling a soul.

Tight-lipped, that bugger.

And it was an open challenge that if anyone could finish a pint of DragonFire (tm) and still be standing five minutes after imbibing the brew, the entire house had their drinks for free.

To this date (since the last Age) nobody had met this feat.

And the third thing Smaug's was famous for... was Tauriel.

~~~

Legolas hefted the heavy wooden double doors open and bee-lined through the scattered tables to one in the far corner next to a giant potted plant and huge bay window. The brightest (and greenest) corner, Legolas often found his friend hanging out there at the high table, swinging his short legs (he was a hobbit, so he had little other option). Today, he was drinking some ent juice (not for the promise that it made one taller, just because he liked the flavor).

Legolas plopped his butt down on one of the high stools and dropped his bag to the floor.

"Good afternoon, Legolas!" Bilbo greeted. He wore his traditional hobbit attire, maroon colored weskit, short trousers, bare feet. A crown of daisies capped his curly hair. He must have taught the younger kids outside in the meadow today. Legolas wondered how many classes Bilbo was teaching now, through Community Ed. Shire Country Dance was ever popular with the mom and toddler set. 

"Bilbo, I hope the day finds you well." Legolas smiled at his friend.

Bilbo shrugged. "Nothing untoward for this first week of the second semester. Though I did find this new bakery that makes amazing strawberry pies. I'll have to request the recipe." He sipped his juice through a striped straw. "Tell me about your new students."

"Several of the humans just stare. And I've three dwarves. Surly bunch." His mind shifted quickly to the red-headed dwarf and he felt himself grow warm. "The elves are the only ones who seem to listen." His shoulders drooped a little. 

"It takes some time for a human to get used to working with elves." Bilbo toed him under the table. "Your glow is pretty dazzling, my friend, especially up close. Many of the freshmen are pretty green in their elf interactions. Plus, you are a prince." Bilbo patted Legolas' hand. "Many reasons for them to be a tad tongue-tied. You should have a party, mingle with them, get them used to your elfyness."

"But it's second semester. Shouldn't they be used to… elfyness by now?"

Bilbo's eyes shifted to someone behind Legolas, and that someone said, "What do you want?" in a tone that suggested she cared more for a bronzed horse turd than what he wanted.

Tauriel, a red-headed elf Legolas once totally crushed on a few hundred years ago (I mean red-hair. It's so unique. Just like that young dwarf he'd seen today). Now they were ... friends. A young heiress, she'd worked for Legolas' father (President of Gondor University, the largest university in the entire Middle-earth.) for a while, and got bored, then she worked in government for a while, and got bored, and now she waited tables at a bar.

"Cranberry with a twist of lime," Legolas said hopefully.

Tauriel narrowed her eyes at Legolas, nodded once, then turned gracefully on her feet and stalked back to the bar. Everything she did was fluid and predatory. (She still scared Legolas a little, but he never admitted to that before, and he wouldn't admit to that now.)

"What do you think you'll get?" Bilbo asked, smile playing on his lips.

"Not sure. Last time that flaming Spider Spit was interesting." Legolas scanned Smaug's to see if any of his other colleagues were about after their day of classes. Quite a few faces were familiar, students from classes or from some other endeavor he'd been involved in. Many were just regulars like himself who he'd gotten to know over the centuries.

"But that one Hula Dula with the pineapple juice was good. Remember that one?" Bilbo sipped at his juice.

Legolas spun around on his stool. "Hey, how did you get the ent juice?" 

Bilbo swung his feet. "Bofur. Ordered at the bar."

Behind the bar, Bofur worked his magic. He was a bit of a showman with a ready smile and ear. Legolas (after being attacked by the strength of some of Tauriel's drinks) could be found bemoaning his Heart-less state to the bartender on some nights. And felt mortified about it in the morning.

Someone tried to wave down Tauriel. She gave her back to the customer, tossing her long red hair.

Legolas snorted. (Not very dignified, he glanced around to make sure nobody heard. Bilbo grinned at him.) Smaug's was famous for her, because she was the rudest, worst waitress in all of history.

"So, my studious friend. What degree are you working on this year?"

Bilbo laughed light-heartedly. "Oh, I am taking a single class only, as you well know. It's organic chemistry. Has a lab and everything."

Chemistry? "Chemistry?" he asked, eyebrows bunched in curiously. "What will you do with that? Are you going to teach your dance students all about the familiar relations of the carbonyl group?"

With a shrug, Bilbo said, "Oh, I don't know. I could teach them about acid build-up in their muscles from over-exertion or something. Or," Bilbo leaned in close, "we can sit around in the studio and make fireworks." He nodded seriously. "We could be the life of the party!"

"Did I hear someone say party?"

Legolas jumped. He hated having his back to the door, he couldn't see anyone approach them and the din of conversation around them killed his fine-tuned hearing. 

"Dwalin! Welcome," Bilbo said. 

Dwalin, a marine biology professor and a surly dwarf, covered in tattoos, with a grim face (that would go all gooey over baby seals and dolphins), sat down with them at their table that was only really meant for two. 

"Tauriel, bring me a Spider Spit," Dwalin roared out over the bar's steady noise level.

"Bilbo, working on your seventh degree this year?" the dwarf asked, pointedly ignoring Legolas.

But Legolas would have none of that. He was too flummoxed to be insulted. "You _ordered_ a Spider Spit? You _ordered_ it? Of your own free will?"

The dwarf's previously somewhat less grim face returned to grim. "What of it?"

Legolas sputtered. "Well, it's just... that drink..."

Bilbo giggled. A sound that could be childish if it wasn't from a grown man, though a very small grown man. Either way, it was delighted and always brought a smile to Legolas' face. "Legolas... remember who he ordered from." Then he addressed the dwarf (and when had Bilbo started being so close with the marine biology professor?) "What do you expect you'll get today?"

Dwalin leaned in. "It's my theory that if you ask for something nasty, you'll get something benign."

Legolas hadn't thought of that.

"Hey, how'd you get that ent juice?" Dwalin asked, a little envious.

"Bofur."

"Ahh." Dwalin nodded. 

They were awfully chummy. Was Bilbo friends with everybody? "Excuse me, but how do you two know each other, if you don't mind my asking?"

Dwalin swung his gaze over to Legolas. "Well, this little chap took a class from me. Best student I've ever had."

Oh, that made sense. That's how Legolas was introduced to Bilbo a few years back as well. He'd taken his full run of botany classes... Thinking back, it might have been Bilbo's fifth degree.

Bilbo beamed. "Dwalin took the class out to the Gray Havens to swim with dolphins. Can you imagine! And me, being not the best swimmer," he shrugged, and Legolas nodded, (everyone knew hobbits sank faster than granite) "he put me in this inflatable suit and kept by my side the entire time." Bilbo turned his endearing smile on the dwarf and Legolas was shocked to see a kind of fondness in the dwarf's own expression. 

Wait... Was this? Was this dwarf interested in this hobbit? As in romantically? As in... love?

"And he let us see some baby dolphins at the aquarium there that were caught up in a bad storm. So cute!" Bilbo squirmed in his chair.

"I know!" Dwalin agreed, his face lit up. "Right sweetest things of the seas."

Legolas scanned the dwarf's braids for any courting beads. He was only faintly familiar with dwarven culture, however, and couldn't tell if any of them meant something so important. Bilbo had no such adornments in his curly thatch of hair.

"When they're first birthed, the mother immediately helps them to the air for their first breath," Dwalin said, nearly breathless with some sort of reverence... or was that... awe?

"You really like baby dolphins," Legolas muttered.

Dwalin turned on him again, that open, wide-eyed, lack of grimness made the dwarf seem almost friendly. Then he shuttered up again. "I do." He said it low and threatening.

Legolas held up his hands. "Good. I'm glad that they have such a stalwart warrior in their corner. What with their numbers so diminished after that last storm, it's good to care of them."

Dwalin's shutters slowly opened. "Aye, that it is."

Maybe the pink cheeks weren't for Bilbo, but… baby dolphins?

Tauriel came up and slapped two drinks before the two drinkless men, turned and walked off. Legolas lifted his glass and sniffed, flinched, set it back down. He glanced over at Dwalin's, which was foaming green.

Dwalin sipped. Shrugged. Pushed it over to Legolas. "Might suit you better." He scooped up Legolas' glass, sipped, smacked his lips to judge the taste, and took a longer drink. Curious, Legolas sniffed the green foam. Spinach? With his own shrug he took a sip and deemed it not terrible and claimed it as his own. 

As it was with Tauriel as a bar-maid.

"Thorin will be at the lecture tonight on sustainable construction," Dwalin said nonchalantly. 

Bilbo's cheeks went pink and a light seemed to shine from his bright eyes, much like an elven glow. "You don't say?" Bilbo said. "I was thinking of attending that tonight myself." He kicked his legs with more ferocity.

"Who's Thorin?" Legolas asked.

~~~

Thorin Oakenshield, King in Exile, fiddled with his tie in the reflection of his full-length mirror in his bedroom. He pulled it left, then right, trying to center the damned thing. He growled. "This isn't working."

"Uncle, it's just a tie. It's not a mighty army come to destroy Gondor. Here, let me." Fili batted Thorin's hands away and pulled it just a tad to the left and smiled. "Look. Perfect."

Thorin sized himselfup in the mirror. His dark suit was new, tailored to fit his form, tall for a dwarf and broad in the shoulders. His black hair, streaked with silver, fell around his shoulders, his braids newly plaited and neat. Beard trimmed, as was the latest fashion. He nodded. Decent. Doable. 

"Smashing, Uncle!" Kili said as he bounced into the room. A blue paint smear marred his smooth complexion. That lad would certainly have a hard time finding a dwarrow with that face. Couldn't even grow a full beard, trimmed or not. But Thorin was proud of him nonetheless.

"Thank you. Well, I am off to the conference hall. See you there at seven?"

His nephews nodded. "We must ready ourselves as the proper heirs of Durin!" Kili said.

Thorin smiled at Fili and Kili, his sister-sons and the jewels of his eye. He pressed his forehead to each of theirs. "Scrub that paint off your face!" he said as he left for the confrence. 

~~~

Thorin arrived early at Orthanc Hall and talked with the Conservation Development head, made sure the lighting and sound were good, and ran over his presentation a few times in his head. Attendees soon started to arrive, and Thorin greeted old friend and colleagues, rivals, and the occasional naysayer who longed for the good old days of little regulatory oversight and the idea that supplies and resources were limitless.

Standing on the stage, he discussed the presentation's flow one more time with Balin when he lost his words.

Standing in a beam of light from an overhead skylight, sandy-blond curls nearly glowing (outshining even the glowing leaf-eater standing next to him) was the most beautiful creature Thorin knew. 

Bilbo Baggins. Hobbit. Folk dance instructor. The object of his affections.

They'd met a few months ago and Thorin felt it, _knew_ it in his bones, Bilbo made him whole. Stilled the longing he hadn't even realized was plaguing him all his years. Thorin skipped down the stage's steps and rushed up to him. "Bilbo! You came!" 

Pink highlights bloomed on Bilbo's cheeks in such a lovely way. Thorin had to press his hands to his sides to keep them from taking the hobbit up in his arms and kissing that delighted smile away.

Delighted smile.

Thorin's heart (his inner cheerleader) did a back flip.

"Thorin! Of course I came. How are you? Are you ready? Oh, my manners! Grandmother Baggins would be aghast. Thorin Oakenshield, I would like you to meet my friend Legolas Greenleaf, a professor at the university." 

Thorin supposed he should be polite. Greenleaf was a prominent family, as royal as he himself was. King to prince, Thorin did a little bow. "Legolas, it's a pleasure. Thank you for escorting Bilbo."

Legolas bowed himself. Graceful and elegant. Thorin scowled. "It is my pleasure, Thorin, son of Thráin. Bilbo has told me quite a bit about this conference and how very excited he is to hear you speak." 

Thorin's stiffness melted and he turned a barely contained smile on Bilbo. "You speak such kind words, Bilbo."

Bilbo scratched at the back of his head, then looked up at Thorin through his thick eyelashes. (So coy!) "Well, you see, all of it is true. I really support what you are doing here. Legolas is interested sustainability as well, so I brought him along."

"Well come, please, would you like to sit with my Company? They would all enjoy seeing you again."

His hobbit looked over at the elf, and Thorin nearly smacked his forehead. Of course he wouldn't want to take the elf into the group of dwarves. But then the elf gave a brief nod, and Bilbo erupted in a smile and said to Thorin, "That would be lovely."

Thorin could not help it, he nodded at the elf in thanks.

~~~

Gimli pulled at his own tie. Navy blue with thin yellow stripes. Normally he wouldn't attend any of the Company events this... stuffy. He'd go to the parties, to ground breaking events, but the conferences were generally pretty dry, and he had so much homework to do with his Diffy Q prof making them define all the theory before they got into actual practical use. But his father couldn't attend this one, and so he'd offered to represent the family in support of his king and his sustainable development plans.

The Company (consisting of thirteen dwarves—why they called themselves the Company, he'd never been sure) took up the first three rows on the right side of the floor. The conference logo (an evergreen tree overlaying a tall building) flipped over and over on huge screen above the stage, the podium stationed like some officiate, waiting for the first _tap tap tap, is this thing on_ , before the hour-long presentation began. (Of which he'd sat through three times already.) 

He looked around for Fili and Kili, hoping they'd show up soon. Already most of the group had arrived (and were mingling as was their duty as the Company). More and more dwarves and men filtered into the large room. Many gathered around the coffee carafes, and Gimli decided he might as well get his own caffeine (to keep the eyes open) and do his duty mingling. 

He poured himself some special roast and added two teaspoons of sugar, no milk, and swizzled it around with the little wooden stick. He inhaled the rich aroma and took a drink. Putting on his mingling-face, he shook a few hands, introduced himself as a fourth year engineering student at the university (that usually always got him extra kudos), and met heads of companies and government officials and smiled and nodded and smiled and nodded.

The clock read ten more minutes until the hour. So, Gimli freshened his cup and headed back to his seat.

Sitting in the Company's section was that elf. The one from Rohan Hall. The one with the _hair_. Gimli spun back towards the coffee. He couldn't do this. He couldn't sit by that elf. (He couldn't think near that elf, let alone sit.)

"Gimli! Got your coffee? Let's go," said Nori, one of the Company. He wove his arm into Gimli's and dragged him over to their seating area. 

"What's that tree-shagger doing in our section?" Nori grumbled, low enough that only Gimli could hear the racial slur. 

Next to the elf was a hobbit (was this _the_ hobbit his father had mentioned?) and he was leaning towards Dwalin on his left and talking animatedly. The elf just looked uncomfortable. (But very regally uncomfortable if Gimli was a judge.)

"I'm not sitting next to that," Nori continued, low and right in Gimli's ear. "You go first." Nori pushed Gimli down the row of chairs right to the one next to the elf.

The elf in question looked up and met Gimli's eyes. The brilliant blue seemed to sharpen, lighten almost. The elf radiated starlight. "Oh," he said, his voice nearly tender. "It's you."

Gimli had to get out of there. His whole body started to buzz, and it wasn't the caffeine. His pulse pounded in his temples and his palms began to sweat. (Leak, more accurately.) His pits went damp and he was happy he was wearing a jacket to cover the stains that were certainly spreading along his shirt.

Nori grabbed Gimli's shoulder and pushed him down. Gimli almost fell out of the chair and his coffee dribbled on the floor. He turned and glared at Nori, baring his teeth. Nori brandished his hands, holding out the palms in surrender. "Sorry," he drawled. "But better you than me." Nori shivered.

Gimli shivered, too. He set his coffee on the ground and faced forward, hands pressed into his thighs.

"Excuse me." The elf beside him leaned forward; out of the corner of his eye Gimli could see that cascade of white-blond hair. "Are you feeling well?"

"What's this?" said another voice. The elf sat back and the hobbit leaned over (leaned over!) the elf's lap to address Gimli. "Did you need some water? I'm Bilbo Baggins, by the way. Can I ask if you are Gimli, son of Gloin?"

Gimli turned by slow degrees to stare at the sickeningly cheery hobbit. It registered in his hind brain that this was the hobbit Thorin was enamored with. An odd couple, if he were to be honest, but then his eyes flickered to the elf and Gimli felt dizzy. "Aye. I'm Gimli. And I'm fine," (he managed a smile he wasn't sure was at all convincing), "thank you for asking." He nodded to the hobbit, and without thinking of it, looked up into those eyes, blue expanses more brilliant than sapphires, and felt turned to the very stone of his ancestral home.

The elf's eyes slowly softened and a smile, small yet tender, touched his lips. "Hello Gimli, I am Legolas. It is a pleasure to meet you."

"Gimli," Gimli nodded, "at your service."

This was going to be a very very long lecture.

~~~

Legolas felt numb. From the ends of his toes to the tips of his ears. A little light-headed too. He was an elf, he knew he wasn't ill. He could only blame the presence of the dwarf beside him and the swirling song in his head. A young one (the dwarf, not the song), shoulder length hair. Red hair. Short, stylish beard. A kind of strained expression. He didn't look well. Did dwarves get ill? Was the dwarf, Gimli, going to pass out during Thorin's presentation? That probably wouldn't be good. Perhaps, since they were both a little off, he should escort the young dwarf (how old was he anyway, at least 80, certainly.) to the entry way. They could both get some air and maybe talk and ...

_Tap tap tap._

"Is this thing on?"

Bilbo sighed. Dwalin burst out laughing. And Thorin Oakenshield began his presentation.

~~~

Over the next hour and twenty minutes (it was supposed to last only one hour, but...) Bilbo squirmed in his seat, Thorin stuttered, Gimli sat stone still, sweating like a racing horse, and Legolas stared at Gimli beside him.

All in all, it was uncomfortable for many.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Thranduil set down his crystal glass of wine (not really an approved policy of the university: drinking on the job) on his desk. "And have you worked out where you will be visiting during your Mate Sabbatical."

"Yes, Father. I've a few locations I plan to spend some time." He sipped his own wine and stared out the window. A large maple tree swayed in the wind. Birds flittered within the branches, chirping. Happy. Little pairings of birds all happily singing. Happy, because they found a mate.

"Legolas?" The tone was hard, as if Thranduil had been repeating himself for some time.

"I'm sorry, Father. You were saying?"

"Well, I highly recommend you visit Rivendell, our cousins there—"

"Father, I know everyone in Rivendell; my Heart is not there." Legolas felt empty inside, thinking of Rivendell and the elves there. He needed to go to places he had not haunted throughout this last millennium. "My Heart is not in Lothlorian, nor the Greenwood. My Heart is out there, beyond the borders of my usual havens."

This father's stoic expression melted. "I understand, my son. It is ever hard on the heart to not feel completed. You will find your Heart Song. Maybe it will not be this century, but it will happen."

Legolas stared at his father (giving him empty platitudes?) "Thank you, Father. I pray, however, it is sooner than later. I feel without such a connection, such fulfillment, I may just..."

_Fade._

He did not want to think of it. Of this thinness. This tiredness. He would need to go west, just to replenish his spirit, if he could not complete himself. "Father, what is it like, to find your Heart?"

Thranduil rocked back in his leather chair. Above him, a portrait of himself with a crown of branches in long flowing robes dominated the wall. It was a portrait of older times. An age of kings and dark sorcerers and magical rings. Legolas missed those days sometimes. Things, in a way, were simpler. 

"I think it is different for every elf, my son." He pursed his lips, contemplating, and Legolas wondered where exactly in the reels of his father's long memory he was now walking. "For me, when I met your mother, the heart just knew. The Heart Song between us was so strong. One look into her eyes, and we both knew. The melody chimed within us. It isn't like that for everyone, though"

"Um, did you..." Legolas flailed his hand through the air, "have any physical reactions?"

A soft smirk glided across Thranduil's lips. "Of course. For me, I felt as nervous as a young elf, many millennium younger. Giddy almost." Thranduil leaned back in his chair, his eyes aimed at the tiled ceiling but focused in some far distant past. "Like a young one, green and hopeful."

"Any dizziness?" Legolas felt himself going a little green himself.

Thranduil's gaze immediately focused on Legolas. "It is as you say, my son. Why do you ask?" He leaned forward, eager. "Have you met someone, who made you feel that way? Did you hear the music?" 

Legolas felt a little heat to his ears. "Ah, just curious. Just asking about something I'd heard." His father looked so happy, so joyous that Legolas might have found his Heart. 

Thranduil seemed diminished by the question, no longer burgeoning with excitement. "For some that is an affect. Dizziness, numbness, a kind of stutter to the heart."

Legolas swallowed thickly, but didn't say a word. He didn't want to crush his father's joy with the idea that his son's Heart was a dwarf.

~~~

Gimli sat through his thermodynamics class in a daze. He'd taken no notes. Not talked to anybody, and barely even registered when class was dismissed. 

"Hey, Gimli, you going to Diffy Q?" asked a fellow student. 

Gimli blinked at him and tried to remember his name. Blond dwarf. Thick beard. He was a little familiar. (In fact, this was Loni, his friend for years. They had every class together this semester.) He shook his head, trying to reorganize his brain. "Yeah. I guess." He had no mind for differential equations right now, but he better not get marked as absent.

He collected his books, his notebook (despairingly blank for the day), his mechanical pencil and eraser and dumped them in his backpack. He trudged behind Loni across campus, mind wrapped up in blond hair and blue eyes.

"What's wrong with you? You get dumped or something?"

"What? Me?" Gimli shook his head. "You think I could keep a relationship from you?"

Loni shook his head slowly. "Who knows? You can be crafty when you want to be. Did the conference go okay? Hanging out with the old guard?"

"I sat next to an elf." The words fell to the ground from his lips like dead leaves.

"An elf? They kicked you out of the Company?" Loni nearly choked on laughter.

"No, he was sitting with the Company. With a hobbit. A Bilbo Baggins."

They huffed it up College Hill, where at the peak they could see both sides of campus spread out. "The elf's name was Bilbo Baggins?"

An art class was lounging out under the linden trees. Gimli saw Kili and Fili. He elbowed Loni and the two students waved. The brothers eagerly waved back then returned to their sketching, Kili leaning into his brother's side and saying something. The two laughed.

"No, the hobbit was the Baggins fellow. The elf's name was Legolas Greenleaf."

"Greenleaf? Professor Greenleaf? In the earth sciences department, I think. The President's son?"

Gimli stopped, causing someone behind him to curse and barely avoid a collision. When they'd first bumped into each other, the elf had been wearing tweed. Nobody wore tweed unless they were a teacher of some sort. And the President's son? The immortal Thranduil who was never seen and was said to still hold some of the magic from the previous Age?

Crap.

"Yeah, I think that was him."

~~~

After his last class of the day, Legolas headed straight for the bar. It was early, only just six, but Smaug's was half full on this week night. "Bofur." He slid onto a stool at the near empty bar. "Something strong, but not deadly."

Bofur grinned. "What's got your panties in a bunch, there, Legolas?" Bofur was a charming dwarf (if not classy.) One of the few that didn't seem to hold an innate hatred of elves. He was easy to talk to and easy to confide in. The dwarf had pigtails and deep dimples that seemed to always appear when a friend was near. (There were dimples now; did he consider Legolas a friend?)

"Hard day," Legolas said, which was somewhat true. All through class he thought about Gimli. Between classes, he sought out a full head of red hair and beard. What was _wrong_ with him? He wasn't a stripling. He was nearly three thousand years old!

Bofur took a wine glass and added something from a red bottle, and then a splash of something from a clear bottle. Then he plopped a mint leaf on top. "Here ya go. Will soothe what ills ya." Bofur crossed his arms over the bar and leaned forward. "Students?"

Legolas sipped and was delighted at the light refreshingly minty flavor of the drink. "No." (Not his anyway. He'd found out Gimli, son of Gloin, was in the engineering department.)

"Colleagues?" Bofur asked, ignoring a man who was trying to order a beer. Tauriel walked behind Bofur, slapping him on the rear and began mixing a drink.

Legolas shook his head and sighed.

"Ah, it's love. You, my friend," Bofur stood upright, "are in love."

Legolas flinched. "What? Why would you think that?"

"And a pining love. It's in the sigh, Master Elf. Maybe the quaver to your glow. But really, that sigh said it all." Bofur tilted his head and gave a little nod.

"Well, you see. It's not so much I'm in love. But.… There's this … a male that is… well, you see…" (Legolas was growing redder and redder as he searched for exactly what was making him sigh.)

Bofur's dimples deepened as the barkeep continued to nod encouragingly.

"Well, we met… and you see, there was this… feeling. And, well." Legolas swallowed down half his drink. "It's not really… he's not… My father would not approve."

Legolas suddenly felt relief. That was it. That was what got his nerves in a knot. Not that he wasn't pleased by the red-headed dwarf, but because his father would be devastated.

De Va Stated.

"Well," Bofur began to mix another drink, "have you been seeing this guy long?"

Legolas swallowed down the second half of his drink, and it was immediately replaced with the one Bofur had just mixed. "No. I'm not seeing him. Well, I've seen him. Twice." 

"Ah, a captured-glance kind of love. Anyone I know?" 

Legolas swore there was a twinkle in the barkeep's eyes. Of course Bofur knew Gimli. They were both (Gimli by relation) in the Company. Legolas pressed his lips together. Then he gulped down the second drink. "Yes."

Bofur leaned back and laughed. "Well, that's a right good thing, Legolas. Do you need me to," he waggled his eyebrows, "set something up."

"Umm…"

Legolas thought back to the way he felt with Gimli, especially during that sustainable development lecture (of which Legolas hadn't paid any attention) with the young dwarf sitting as stiff as a tree next to him. How he'd wanted to reach out, and touch. How he wanted to hear him laugh, or see him smile. He wanted to know more about him. He was taking engineering classes, but what did he want to do with his life? Did he like to travel? Did he like… elves? Or hate them, like most dwarves?

Legolas' shoulders slumped. "He's… " He looked up at Bofur, feeling a little free with his tongue after the two minty drinks. Bofur was listening, no judgment on his face. He nearly forgot they were in a bar full of people. It was just him and the dwarf, talking, no other ears around. He could tell Bofur. He would understand. "He's a dwarf," Legolas whispered.

Bofur blinked, but his expression didn't really change. "I do know most the dwarves here," Bofur said steadily.

Legolas buried his face in his arms, leaning on the sticky bar. (Eww.) "He's a student here."

"Ah, a young one, or someone just taking classes like our hobbit?"

Legolas peeked up at Bofur. "Well, he's young. Oh Eru save me. I'm a cradle robber."

Bofur rested on the bar across from Legolas. "But he makes you feel… " he wiggled his shoulders.

Legolas nodded forlornly. "I get all dizzy and numb and I just want to touch him."

"Does he feel that way about you?"

Legolas whined. "I have no idea."

"Tell me his name and we'll work something out, assuming he's not already claimed."

Legolas shot upright in his chair. "Claimed! I hadn't thought of that. I hadn't even thought that he would already have his Heart and he would be beyond my reach." Despair crashed down on Legolas, compounding his anxiety, his worry, his confusion. "Oh, Bofur. I must do something!"

Bofur took up Legolas' hands, laughing. (Laughing, the damned dwarf was laughing at his pain!) "What is he called?"

Legolas leaned forward and said into Bofur's ear. "Gimli, Gloin's son."

Bofur's eyes were wide. "Oh dear. This could be problematic." He immediately poured Legolas another inebriating drink.

~~~

Cloistered in his dorm room, Gimli was scanning the internet for images of Professor Legolas. Every time his roommate, Toldur, would come within view of his screen, Gimli would flip to his physics lab paper. Then he would go back through the images, staring at Legolas smiling his thin smile for the camera. Or a more candid photo of him laughing brightly with some other elves or Men. There was a fansite of him (he had his own damned fan club) full of photos from phones while he was teaching in class. The man liked tweed.

Gimli couldn't look at each photo for very long. One would catch his eye and he would scan over it, roaming up and down, but never actually stopping. Never taking the full image in. His heart raced every time he tried. To stop and look into those eyes. Examine that hair. He felt short of breath and he wished Toldur would just… go…away. 

He gathered his things and went to the shower room down the hall. With warm water sluicing over his body, he rubbed himself off. Again. (This was getting to be a problem.) He wasn't a dwarf of barely fifty anymore, ready to rut against anything. He was seventy-eight and had control of himself. Still, as he watched his seed wash down the drain, he knew control wasn't exactly what he had.

He toweled himself off, dressed and went back to his room.

"Gimli, nice to see you, lad."

"Bofur!" Gimli touched his forehead to Bofur's, glad to see the most relaxed member of the Company. Toldur glanced over at them, sitting at his own computer typing away. It was that 'you're not going to be loud' look. "What can I do for you?"

"Well," Bofur followed Gimli's glance at Toldur, "why don't we go for a walk." He tipped his hat at Gimli's roommate, who nodded his thanks.

Gimli grabbed his coat. "Yeah, let's go. Later!" He waved to his roommate, who waved back.

They took the elevator down to the main floor, talking about Thorin's conference. "I was a little," Gimli didn't know how to say this without insulting their king, "shocked at his presentation."

Bofur laughed. "What, his constant stuttering? Ha! He was a wreck." The elevator hit the bottom floor and the two dwarves left the dwarf-only residence hall into the cool evening air. Above them the stars were nearly faded from the campus lights.

Gimli nodded eagerly. (Now that Bofur was on board, he wouldn't hold back.) "I know! He's usually so smooth and … well, commanding. It was a little sad to see him stumble over his words like that. You wanna go to the student union, or that café on Farlion Street?"

"Café," he said. "Student union? Come on, I'm too old for that." He chuckled, then said more soberly, "You know, Thorin's got it bad right now."

"What?" Gimli felt cold. "Is he okay? He's not… sick or anything?"

Bofur waved his hands through the air. "Oh yes. He's got the worse ailment known to dwarves."

Gimli stopped in his tracks and faced Bofur. "What's wrong with him?"

Bofur, expression completely neutral, said, "I'm afraid… he's in love."

Love? "Wait… he was … what? He's in love? He's not… dying?"

Bofur burst into loud, raucous laughter. "Oh, Mahal, the look on your face? You were ready for the end of the world! Imagine! A dwarf, sick! Oh my. That is too rich. Too rich!"

Gimli (none too entertained) punched Bofur in the arm. "Dwarves can get sick. Arkenstone Virus," he said for example.

"Ow! Hey, be gentle to an old dwarf."

"Old, my ass." The two continued walking along the tree-lined street down the hill toward the café. "You're in your prime. Now, tell me about Thorin's love."

"Gossip."

Gimli leveled an unamused gaze at Bofur. "Says the biggest gossip of the Company."

"No, that's Dori." Bofur shrugged and smiled. "And, well, someone has to keep tabs on everyone. So, Thorin is entirely enchanted by Bilbo Baggins—"

"The hobbit!"

"The very same. They met at some environmental conference a few months ago and keep finding reasons to meet again and again."

"But… the king and a … a hobbit? Shouldn't he like… sire children or something? Keep the line of Durin going?"

Bofur pffted at that. "Kili and Fili can work on making babies. Thorin's found his One, that's far more important than breeding for the purpose of a bloodline." A pair of humans laughed together as they hiked back toward campus.

"But, how would he know the hobbit is his One? Is that even possible? Cross-race Ones?" And now, this line of questioning really interested Gimli. 

Bofur glanced over at Gimli, and something in the older dwarrow's eyes concerned him. "It happens. The elves, especially, believe in cross-race Ones. Which sucks for them, being immortal and everything. Some have to wait thousands of years for their One, and then they die off in just a few years. Pretty terrible stuff."

"Oh, yeah, that is pretty sad."

"So, some of the more open-minded are always on the lookout for their One. Afraid they'll miss them. Hoping they'll be reincarnated or some such thing." Bofur pulled out his pipe and began puffing on it as they continued their walk. Gimli suddenly felt sad for the elves. Imagine, finding your One and only having a short portion of your life with them. He couldn't help but worry about Thorin. How long did hobbits live, anyway? 

The two crossed a bridge arching over a little river, and the bright lights of Café Mordor welcomed them in.

Students had taken over every table in the café, laptops open, paper spread out. Heads close together in conversation. Gimli and Bofur ordered some Mt. Doom hot chocolate (Bofur with an extra shot of Doom) and went outside into the cold to sit at one of the iron tables. The river rolled by, a dark ribbon in the dark night.

"So, are we out here to talk about Thorin?" Gimli asked, certain that wasn't the entire reason.

"And… what would you say to a double date?"

Gimli studied his paper coffee cup, then shifted his narrowed gaze up at his friend. "I'd say, I need more info."

"Thorin and Bilbo—" Gimli groaned (seriously, with the awkward king of awkward?) "—and Bilbo's friend, Legolas Greenleaf."

Gimli squeezed his cup so hard, the lid popped off and he spilled hot chocolate all over himself. "Ow!" He dropped the cup to the decorative iron table and wiped the tiny napkin all over his hand, trying to sop up the scalding liquid. "Shit." He fanned his hand through the air and finally looked over at Bofur.

The dwarf was not grinning that grin of mockery, of 'ah ha, I got you.' He was smiling a true smile, an amused, 'ah, I see the truth there.' Gimli growled at him. "Why would you set me up with an elf?" he said, more vehemently than he intended.

With a feigned innocent expression Bofur said, "You've met him right? So, it's not like he's a stranger. You seemed to hit it off at the conference when you sat next to each other." 

(Hit it off, Gimli's ass. They hadn't shared one word after their initial introductions.)

"Why? Why would you set me up with that elf?"

"Legolas?"

"Yes. That one."

"Well, he was," Bofur smirked, "asking about _you_."

Gimli suddenly felt cold, then hot. He stared hard at Bofur's face, at his eyes. Was he lying? Teasing him? Did he find out about his unnatural fascination with Lady Galadriel and then Legolas Greenleaf? Oh hell. He had an elf fetish, and everyone would find out and it would be his own level of torture if they ousted him because of it. But Bofur looked sincere. So, with a dry mouth, Gimli nodded. "Yeah, sure. I'll go," he said, heartbeat pounding in his ears.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Thorin stood before his full-length mirror. His shirt was a shimmery silver (Kili forced it upon him) and he wore a necklace of simple gold (Fili said nothing more flashy). His hair was combed, braids neat. He smiled at himself. Shook his head, too much teeth. Smiled again, trying for nonchalance. He looked like a player, all narrow eyes and come hither look. Ugh. He tried another smile, a small, simple upturn of his lips. He looked false, angry. He threw his hands into the air.

There was a knock at the door downstairs. He jumped.

The Thorin in the mirror bore a frantic, caged expression. What if Bilbo didn't like him, once they were in a more intimate setting? What if he got all possessive and bossy? (He did that sometimes; Kili and Fili had tried to break him of the habit, but it was a work in progress.) What if he spilled soup all down his front, or tripped over his own feet, or started badmouthing elves (which he knew Bilbo was quite friendly with, and who he was going to be sharing dinner with.)

The knock again. 

Thorin sucked in air. Released it. 

"Gimli!" he heard Kili great their guest downstairs. 

"Hey, Kee. How's it rollin'?"

Thorin ran his hand down his shirt, trying to smooth out a seam.

"Good. I'm not supposed to say anything, but Uncle is a mess. You'll be there for him, right?"

Thorin frowned. He was not a mess. Wait, was there a thread coming out of that seam? He began fiddling with it.

"Ah, sure. Yeah. Of course."

With one steeling breath, Thorin nodded at himself. He turned away from the mirror and marched downstairs.

"Hello, Gimli." He touched foreheads with the son of Gloin. Then they stood there. Awkward. He wanted to say, "So, an elf?" but knew (somehow) that wasn't very politic. He could say, "Thanks for coming," but that make him sound terribly desperate and helpless, that he needed someone else to go with him on this date with Bilbo. So, he said nothing. And Gimli didn't look like he had much to say either.

Kili looked from one to the other, grin as bright as the sun, and began laughing.

"Oh my. This is going to be a night to remember."

Thorin bristled. "Kili, you are to stay here. No following us."

Gimli went pale. "You can't follow us!" He nearly squeaked. Thorin stared at him, yes, he had a worthy beard, better than Kili's and Kili was the elder. But he'd _squeaked_!

Kili batted his lashes. "Would I do that?" 

"Yes," both Thorin and Gimli said at once. They looked at each other, and Thorin relaxed. Gimli was as date-shy as Thorin and in him he saw a fellow dwarf as lost in the mines.

Kili leered at Gimli. "So, an elf huh?"

Thorin's jaw nearly dropped. You weren't supposed to say that, right?

Gimli rubbed his neck. "Well, ah."

"He is pretty. Uncle, did you know Legolas has a fan club?"

"What? No. He… what?" (Did non-public figures have fan clubs? Weren’t those for … movie stars and musicians?)

"Oh yeah. Tons of photos of him. He's got quite the following. One website, The Prince of the Woodland Realm, has him photoshopped in all sorts of period clothing, tights and a tunic. Holding a bow. He's pretty dashing."

Next to Thorin, Gimli choked on something.

"Prince of the Woodland Realm?" Well, it was an old title, but accurate.

"Oh yeah. Uncle, did you know you have a fan club or two?"

"Me?" What? "What?"

Kili snorted. "Yeah, they have manips of you all decked out in steel armor holding a sword." Kili made a pose, as if wielding a sword aloft. "It's pretty fantastic what they can do with computers nowadays."

Pleased, he wondered if his fan club was called King of Erebor. (But he would not ask.)

Fili strolled barefoot into the foyer, munching on a sandwich. Through a mouthful of bread and tuna he asked, "Aren't you going to be late?"

Thorin looked at his watch, muttered a curse, and the two dwarves rushed out of the manor, Fili and Kili's laughter bright in Thorin's ears.

~~~

"And Becca has quite taken to the Shire Jig. Quick feet on that one, for a human. Little David though, he keeps tripping up. But he's got such a good heart." Bilbo chattered on and Legolas listened intently. It was better to listen to a story about every one of Bilbo's dance students than think about his upcoming date.

Legolas and Bilbo sat at a somewhat secluded table (Bilbo went all out on the reservations, apparently the maître d' and he had taken a cooking class together two years ago.) of the Rohirrim restaurant. Legolas had never eaten here, but Bilbo assured him it was good and there would be things he could eat. It was always awkward when you went out to eat with someone and you had to constantly ask what the ingredients were. (He didn't want to be 'that guy'.) 

He sipped a glass of Malbec and told Bilbo more about his own students. How most of the Men were now able to interact with him and take notes. It was progress. 

Legolas, trapped with his back to the door again, immediately noticed once their gentlemen walked into the restaurant. Bilbo's lively story died on his slightly parted lips, his face went from normal, to dazed, and then landed into the brightest, most delighted smile ever before seen on any person's face. Bilbo climbed to his feet, and Legolas followed suit. He turned and saw their dwarf dates walking up. Thorin was just as delighted. The two began yattering on each other, compliment piled upon compliment, delight spun into delight.

Legolas didn't pay much mind to them. He was looking at his red-haired dwarf. 

Gimli was dressed in a splendid dress shirt of blue with a nicely cut jacket, perfect for one his age and status (remotely within the Line of Durin). He wore a tie, a shade darker than the suit, and his smile (the most beautiful thing he wore) was tentative but hopeful.

"Gimli, hello." Legolas tried to relax (but he couldn’t help the silly grin he felt vying for space on his face). "Thank you for coming to dinner." He held his hand out, and Gimli took it. They shook once, then lingered. Legolas wondered if the linger was his fault, or maybe it was Gimli's. Still, the feeling was amazing. Warm, and a little tingly, and he wanted to leave his hand there all night. But beside them Thorin and Bilbo moved to sit, and Legolas slowly slipped his hand away and gestured for Gimli to sit next to him.

Legolas sat, heart racing, delighted and terrified and… delighted.

~~~

Gimli's hand burned. He hoped Legolas didn't think it swampy. (He couldn't help the sweating, it was automatic, like salivating when you smell something savory.) Under the table he wiped it on his trousers, trying to slough off any sweat that had gathered there. The elf was so damned pretty. Was it fair? The hair, the glow? And he wasn't wearing tweed, either, but a nice jacket and pressed trousers (that really really hugged his butt if Gimli was any judge from the little glance he got).

Thorin sat across from him and proceeded to ignore Gimli and Legolas for Bilbo. Bilbo appeared to blossom under the attention, like a little sprout under the morning sun, until the hobbit looked to their companions.

"Oh, I'm dreadfully sorry. I am," Bilbo glanced up shyly at Thorin through his lashes (and how could he get away with that? Really? People did that?) "very glad you could meet us for dinner. Thorin, you've met Legolas. And Gimli, it is good to see you again. How are your classes?"

"Going well, thank you. I'm top of two of them," he said with some pride. Thorin nodded approval.

"Really? That's quite the achievement," Legolas said. "Who are your professors?"

"Faramir for Materials Science and Imrahil for Design." It felt very odd talking about his classes during a somewhat formal dinner with a man who kept Gimli's cock half-hard whenever he was in the general vicinity. 

"Imrahil, I know him," Legolas said, his expression intense and somewhat unreadable to Gimli. "He's quite excellent. Several papers published. Didn't he work on the tidal power generator project?"

Gimli shifted in his seat, facing more towards the elf. "Yeah, he was the one to design the special fan blades. They were able to increase efficiency by 25% because of that design. Pretty fascinating design, really. He studied some of the sea mammals and how they moved in the water."

"Oh! Does Dwalin know him?" Bilbo asked. "He knows an awful lot about flippers."

Gimli shook his head. (Had the hobbit said that with a straight face?) "Don’t know. Maybe." 

Thorin chuckled, a warm set to his eyes as he looked at Bilbo. (It was a little unnerving.) "I think Dwalin was involved. He was over at the ocean-side last summer for many months on some project."

"Well, he's quite the lauded professor. You must be proud to be doing so well in his class." Legolas' elf-glow had brightened a little. Gimli couldn't stop his blush.

"Yes, I am." He ducked his head. "Thank you."

The waitress came and took their orders. The conversation flowed, and if it got stuck, Bilbo came to their rescue. But Gimli had to show this elf he could hold his own.

"So, ah, Legolas…" What did you say to someone you knew nothing about and was probably thousands of years old? (One fanpage said 3,000, another said 5,000. A few pegged him at a couple hundred, but Gimli knew those had to be wrong.) He decided to just admit to ignorance and opened up with the all-time free for all. "Tell me about yourself."

Legolas nibbled something from the end of his fork and chewed thoughtfully. "Well, what would you like to know? I teach botany. My main focus and area of study is Fangorn and the ents. I enjoy horseback riding. World Travel… it's one of my interests, I guess. I've been all over Middle-earth."

"Have you been to Erebor?" he asked. Silence from the table. Gimli swallowed.

Legolas' eyes darted over to Thorin, then returned to Gimli. So blue. So so blue. "Yes, I have. Many years ago. I knew Thorin's grandfather there. Before… " 

Before the Arkenstone Virus devastated the dwarves of Erebor and took their home away from them forever.

Gimli wanted to kick himself. (In fact somebody did, and if he had to guess, he would bet on Thorin.)

"It is very beautiful," Legolas continued. "The great entrance is flanked by statues several hundred feet tall of dwarves of note. Their weapons carved so fine they appear sharp. Within, there are so many levels. They rise into graceful archways. The walls are all carved with murals or Durin and the Goblin Wars and more abstract images of crystals and jewels. The artistry of Erebor is like nothing I've seen. It puts even Moria to shame."

"Wait… you've been to Moria, too?"

Legolas shook his head. "No, but I have seen pictures painted by elven and dwarven artists. I've books on the subject, if you'd ever like to see them."

Gimli chanced a glance at Thorin, and was shocked at what he saw. Thorin's eyes had gone a little shimmery, as if holding tightly onto unwanted tears. He looked vulnerable, and Gimli felt an unbidden wash of sadness. Of longing for something he'd never even known he'd missed before. 

"I would like that," he said softly, still looking at his king. Then he faced Legolas again. "Maybe, if it's okay, both of us could see them." He gestured to include Thorin.

Legolas' concerned expression blossomed into a smile and it warmed Gimli to his center. This wasn't normal. This couldn't be normal. This elf. This beautiful, ancient, immortal elf, had to be his One. 

Gimli smiled back. He just couldn't help it. And with utter audacity he would be shocked at later, he reached out and took up the elf's hands (and noted his hands were not sweaty anymore) and squeezed them. Legolas squeezed back.

~~~

Driving home was a mostly silent affair for Gimli and Thorin. Thorin glanced over at the younger dwarrow, wanting to talk, but then not knowing what to talk about. He felt so much in his heart. Bilbo was fantastic, then the memories of Erebor. He'd forgotten what he'd ordered even, the food (supposedly excellent) not even comparing to those two things.

"You seem quite enamored of your hobbit," Gimli said and suddenly the silence didn't feel comfortable anymore. (Plus, had the lad just said enamored?)

"And you, your elf."

Gimli laughed at that, a sharp bark that sounded a little bit on the edge of lunacy.

"Is he your One?" Thorin asked. Because really, what would be the point unless he was.

"Yes."

Well, that answer sounded certain. "Does your father know?"

"No."

Thorin drove on, the two stared forward into the night, the headlights flashing by as cars passed. He pulled into the parking lot near Gimli's dorm.

"Don't hold out on Gloin. I'm happy for you. He will be too."

Gimli turned to Thorin, shock-wide eyes, mouth open. Was it so surprising that Thorin would be glad one of his dwarves had found his One? (Well, admittedly it was an elf… but at least it wasn't an orc.)

"Is Bilbo yours?" Gimli asked, one hand on the door handle, ready to leave.

"He is."

Gimli nodded with a slight smile. "I’m glad too." He got out of the car and walked away, a long steady stride. One recognizable as the Walk of Thought. (Thorin knew it well.)

Bilbo Baggins. The name just kind of rolled off his tongue. He said it out loud as he drove home. "Bilbo Baggins. Bilbo. Baggins. Bilbo." His energy, his delight at the world. His mind. Everything about him stirred Thorin. He wanted to hold Bilbo's smaller body in his arms. Smell his hair. Kiss him (oh Mahal did he want to kiss him) and taste his sweet flavor. 

Thorin groaned. He'd been alone for a long time. (A really long time.) He wanted the hobbit. But he didn't want to rush things. But he was his One, so would it really be a rush? Hobbits didn't have Ones, they just fell in love. Did Bilbo love Thorin? Did he want to spend the rest of his days with a surly old dwarf?

Thorin rolled up his driveway and parked in the garage. He turned off the car and rested his head on the steering wheel. 

The door to the garage opened, Thorin looked up. Fili leaned out the door.

"Uncle, Bifur and Bombur called. They want you to call them at the lab, immediately. They said they think they found it. The sequence for the virus!"

~~~

Thorin sat in his den with fourteen dwarrows surrounding him. Dori, Nori and Ori took up the couch, with Bombur claiming the entire loveseat. Dis had pulled the dining room chairs to complete the circle, which sat Gloin, Balin, Bifur, Dis, Fili and Kili. Bofur sat near the fireplace. While Oin and Dwalin stood behind the couch, ignoring the other two chairs. (Bad for my bones, Oin said.) Each held a cup of coffee or tea, and waited patiently, chatting to fill up the time until Thorin called the gathering of the Company to attention. 

His sister, Dis, handed Thorin a cup of jasmine tea. "Drink. Then stop this brooding and tell us why you gathered us all here."

Thorin inhaled deeply through his nose, then let the air go. He wasn't brooding. The tea held little flavor, so he set the cup down on the couch's end table and cleared his throat. The room went quiet.

"Thank you all for coming. I'll just get to the point and let you all know: the Arkenstone Virus has been sequenced. Bifur and Bombur have done it." Cheers exploded in the den, dwarves got up and patted the two virologists on their backs, congratulating them on this amazing achievement.

"Does that mean we can go home?" Dori asked. Everyone quieted down for the answer.

Bombur shook his head. "Not yet. We've just sequenced it. Next we hope to develop a vaccine, and then a cure. There are lots of dwarves, er gollums, in that mountain still, and if we can save them, I would."

In Khudzul (his brain tumor blocked his access to the common tongue for some reason) Bifur explained, "The vaccine is really our first goal and much more achievable than a cure. But it's a start."

"When do you think you'll have the vaccine?" Balin asked. He was scratching things down on a pad of paper, perhaps already planning an expedition to the Lonely Mountain.

Bombur looked stricken; his eyes dipped upon each of the Company, apology evident in his raised, bunched eyebrows. "Oh, it won't be that soon. Years. But this, this sequencing is a first very important step."

Thorin hated to hear _years_. Kili, Fili, and Ori had never known their home. He struggled to keep the disappointment off his face, but Bombur and Bifur's previous jubilation looked torn up and abused. "It is great news, Bombur, Bifur. You've made an amazing step towards reclaiming the mountain. If there is anything you need, just ask."

Bifur muttered, "We could use a few more scientists to join us."

"Well, couldn't we hire some? We're smack dab in one of the best Middle-earth universities. There's got to be some research scientists interested in some gold," Nori said. "Who isn't interested in gold?" (Nori, in fact, loved gold. Other people's gold would do as well.)

Leaning back against the cut stone fireplace, Bofur was grinning like a dopy hound dog. His grin was aimed right at Thorin. "I know someone."

Thorin felt a weight lift. "Who?"

"Student at the university. He's working on his seventh degree; I think you know him. I think he's got some microbiology experience."

And Thorin felt his lips twitch into a grin.

~~~

"What?" Bilbo sputtered from his end of the phone. Thorin thought it was cute. (Then he chided himself for thinking anything was cute.) "Thorin, I've never done research, well, real research."

"But do you think you could follow directions in a lab?" He listed off a few things his two virologists would need from an assistant.

"Well, yes, I could do all that. But, are you sure you want me? Not someone better trained?"

"Bofur highly recommends you."

Bilbo laughed through the phone. Thorin felt the joy of it swell through his chest. "Yes, well, I can certainly give it a try, and your dwarves can report on whether I'm a help or a hindrance. Don't want to muck up the recipe or anything."

"Wonderful. I shall tell them you'll be by tomorrow?"

"Of course. I will do what I can to help you, Thorin."

Thorin pushed the button on his phone after the call was completed. He nodded at his companions. "We have an assistant. A new member of the Company."

~~~

"Oh, just water for me today, Bofur. I'm so nervous. I can't believe they want me? Not to say that I can't help, but there are certainly better people, and well, they asked me, and Thorin said you recommended me, and I really hope I don't make a mistake or ruin anything and…"

Bofur held a hand up, pushed the glass of water across the bar. "Drink."

"I'm sure you'll do splendidly, Bilbo." Legolas couldn't believe the hobbit's excitement over this new project. "You're the most highly educated person I know."

"Well, I do it more as a hobby."

"Seven degrees!" Bofur pointed out.

"Yes, well, it's more of a…"

"And don't you score well?" Legolas asked. In fact he knew Bilbo was one of the top students on the honor roll, fifteen years running.

"That's all well and good," Bilbo tried to explain, "but this is _real_ research, with _real_ consequences. What if I ruin their hard work?"

Legolas settled his hand on his friend's, trying to still his near-vibration. "They will set up parameters for you to work on. Not everything you do will succeed, but that is the point. Try and fail and try and succeed. You will aid them, and that is what they need. You have a broad background, and so you can maybe give them insight into other methods they themselves might not be aware of. Bilbo, mellon-nin, be calm."

Bilbo took in a big breath, nodded. Lifted his shoulders to his ears, then let them drop. "You are right, Legolas. Bofur. I'm just… so excited. I get to help Thorin, you, the dwarves." He and Bofur locked in a thoughtful gaze and Legolas saw the hope in the dwarf's eyes. "I want you to be able to return to your home."

Legolas checked his watch. He hoisted his bag, heavy with art and architecture books, over his shoulder. "Well, I have to go."

Bofur did a double-take. "Where are off too this late at night?"

Legolas flashed his teeth in a smile he couldn't control. "I've got a date." He gave his giggling friends a little bow and pranced out of Smaug's. Tauriel shook her head as he passed her by.

~~~

Gimli sat stiffly on his couch (couch by day, unfolding to a bed by night. Dorm furniture: versatile). He tapped his boot against the tile floor. The place was clean; he'd even mopped the floor. The laundry was tucked away. He'd erased his computer history of Legolas fanpages, just in case. He'd even urged Toldur to tidy his half, and the dwarf (with a 'what the hell is wrong with you' attitude) did as Gimli asked.

The knock came. Gimli bounded to his feet.

"Am I supposed to leave now?" Toldur asked, already grousing in annoyance. His mustache dipped with his frown.

Gimli bounced on the balls of his feet. "You don't have to leave; it's your room too." He opened the door and was shocked to see Fruar standing there, House Matron, with a timid-looking Legolas standing behind her.

"Gimli, is this elf your responsibility?"

Gimli nodded. "Yes." What else was he going to say? He hadn't really thought about inviting an elf to a dwarf-exclusive dorm. They let Men up here, no problem.

"Fine. Just checking." The Matron turned and glowered as Legolas before she stalked down the hall toward the elevators. Legolas' hands were gripped together before him, a heavy book bag hung from one shoulder. All of this, packaged in tweed (elbow reinforcements and everything) and long blond hair.

"Um, please come in." Gimli stepped back and gestured for Legolas to enter. Legolas practically bounded into the room, then pulled up short at the sight of Toldur.

"An elf!" Toldur nearly jumped from his seat. "You're bringing an elf into our room? I cannot believe, you, Gimli. I'm outta here." With stiff, jerking motions, he closed up his laptop and stuffed it into a bag, grabbed a backpack and stuffed books into that, then stuffed his arms into his coat sleeves. (All the while Legolas was elegantly dancing this way and that to keep out of the other student's way.)

Finally, with one final accosted look at Gimli, his roommate slammed the door behind him in the most outrageous exit this dorm room had ever seen. (At least in Gimli's time.)

In the aftermath, the two stood there, not quite looking at each other, not moving an inch.

Finally, Legolas said, "Your room is somewhat… small, for two people."

Gimli shrugged. "I wanted to do the dorm thing. Get to know other dwarves. I could have stayed with Kili and Fili and just carpooled to campus, but…." He shrugged. He wanted to be a normal student, avoid any potential oohing and ahhing over his distant claim to the Line.

"I see," Legolas said, and Gimli probably guessed that the elf-prince did. "So, I brought those books."

Gimli met Legolas' eyes and nearly melted. Then he shook himself. (No melting!) He gestured for Legolas to sit on the couch (his bed! Really, Legolas was on _his bed_ ) and the elf sat, bouncing slightly on the mattress. Legolas looked down at the couch, his hair cascading around his shoulders, bounced again, a small grin bending his lips, and he leaned back against the back rest and began pulling books out of his bag.

Gimli hadn't moved. 

Legolas was on _his bed_ and he was going to sit next to him on _his bed_ and they were going to… look at books. (Gimli, right then, right there, could think of so many other better things to do on _his bed_ with this beautiful elf.)

Legolas' lips moved. Gimli blinked. "What?"

"I see you’re a fan of Lady Galadriel." There was a certain tease to the elf's voice that put Gimli at ease.

The poster of Lady Galadriel was nearly the only decoration on his side of the room. The photographer had her in a forest glen, near a creek. The greens were so vibrant, nearly unreal. She wore a silvery flowing dress and her pale, pale hair spilled down her front. And those eyes: sharp, knowing. At times, Gimli was certain this sad imitation of the Lady could really see him, look deep into his soul. "Well, who wouldn't be? She's amazing! Her voice, it calls to the heavens and coaxes down starlight. The birds sway to her whim through the air, creating living performance art as she sings to the sky. I've heard nothing like her. She's from the Maiar, a being of pureness and light."

Legolas laughed, the rich tone hitting something in Gimli's lower gut. "You are quite the silver-tongued one, Gimli. She is the Lady of the Light. Being near her sets everything at ease. She deserves your adoration."

"You've met her?" Gimli scooted across his room and rested next to the elf. His knee bumped the elf's thigh, and he quickly pulled it away.

Legolas nodded. "Once, while traveling through Lothlorien. It was some time ago." His voice held longing, a sorrowful need that sobered Gimli.

"Was it beautiful there?" he asked.

"As you say it, it was breath-taking. The mallorn trees reached high into the sky. Here," he looked down at his books, "I have images of Lothlorien as well. Shall we look?"

Legolas peeked at Gimli through a veil of his hair, his hand spread across the leather cover of an oversized tomb. Gimli nodded and Legolas turned over the cover.

"I wanted to show you this first, images of Erebor. You are welcome to take this, if you'd like, to show Thorin."

"I think he would appreciate that, thank you."

"Yes, I could see the longing in his eyes. I would show him his kingdom in its glory."

Legolas slowly flipped over pages of the book, full of original hand-drawn and painted images of the glory of the dwarves. The book had to be ancient, and worth a treasure, but was kept in beloved condition. Gimli's heart thudded just looking at the subjects extolled on the pages. They couldn't be real. Nothing this majestic, this grand, could truly exist. It was architecture of a bygone era. He gasped softly when he saw the great mural of Durin's coming. Eight panels, each one meticulously painted on a flat sheet of parchment to rise from the page in three dimensions, as if carved from stone by Mahal's own hammer and chisel. The creation of the dwarves drawn in crisp lines of pencil covered another page. Gimli studied each piece of art, and had Legolas read the information on the following page about it. (He'd have to learn Sindarin someday. Maybe.) Legolas' quiet, reverent words soothed something wild and lost and needy inside Gimli. (Oh, not needy for the elf's touch, which he was beginning to desire more and more, but a need for his past, his history. For his culture that had been splashed across Middle-earth after the fall of Erebor.)

When Legolas closed the book, Gimli leaned back and just absorbed it. He felt in turmoil. He felt lonely.

"When the virus hit, my people lost their home. Sure, we still have cities in the Blue Mountains and the Iron Hills. You can find dwarves all over Middle-earth, but without Moria and without Erebor, we've lost something of ourselves. I don't have this history in my memories," he reached out and traced an inlay of arched stone on the back cover, "but I have it in my blood."

"Oh Gimli." Legolas turned to face Gimli, setting the book to the side and taking up Gimli's hands. Gimli felt frozen, hot yet frozen. "I wish you could see your home. And you will. I think your people are seeking a cure, or a vaccine at least. Bilbo will be helping them. And I will offer any aid I can. Maybe I can discover a plant that can help fight the virus. I will do what I can to help you reclaim your home."

His home. The longing surged within him with the power of shifting stone. "Why?" Gimli managed to say. "Why would you do this for me?" (He meant to say _us_ , but _me_ slipped out instead.)

"Because, Meleth-nin, I would do anything for you. To see you happy. I am yours to command."

Gimli's heart beat once, twice, a thick heavy cadence. He squeezed Legolas' hands and swallowed, licking his lips (and oh what a tease to that poor elf) before he said, "But, why?"

Pink blossomed over the elf's features and Gimli was fascinated to see the tips of his ears color as well. His constant glow flared.

"I am drawn to you, Gimli. Do you not feel it? Is it not the same for you?"

Gimli shook his head, then nodded. Finally, he just said, "Yes, it is. I don't know what this is," (a total lie), "but I too feel it."

The elf's glow brightened, and his face lit with a smile of pure joy. Gimli's strained heart stopped for a moment, then began again with a fervor, and if Gimli didn't kiss him soon, he was sure the poor organ would explode from anticipation.

So, he leaned forward, giving the elf a chance to retreat, but instead he too leaned forward and their lips met.

Even if Gimli was somewhat young and not that experienced, he was still rewarded by Legolas shivering at his touch. Legolas swiped his tongue across the very lip Gimli had wetted earlier and Gimli gasped, leaning in and hoping for more than just this singular connection. He drew his hands away from the elf's and ran them up Legolas' arms. Thin, definitely not a bulky as a dwarf's, but he still sensed a strength in them. Legolas wrapped his arms around Gimli's waist and pulled him closer, groaning under the tender stroke of tongue against tongue.

After moments, (too fast, too slow) Legolas pulled back and pressed his forehead against Gimli's. Gimli blinked at him, panting. If the book had showcased images of utter beauty, now they were but fumblings of children, crude lines of little finesse, because the most amazing, most beautiful thing he had ever seen was in his embrace right now.

Legolas' arms completed their trek and closed around him. He buried his face in Gimli's hair, inhaled, sighed.

"Did you… Did you just, ah, sniff me?" (Truly, it magnified his erection tenfold. If that was possible.)

"Yes," Legolas whispered into his neck. "You smell delightful. Clean, yet with your own musk hidden under the scent of soap. A bit of stone and earth and … " He hmmed and Gimli had to shift (just a little, not enough to loosen his elf) to relieve the pressure in his jeans.

If Gimli smelled like stone, Legolas smelled like trees, and flowers, and the wind. Like the crisp air of a winter's night. He rolled his face forward and touched his nose against Legolas' and rubbed. Legolas giggled. Gimli grinned.

Finally they pulled away from each other, the elf grinning like a fair fool, and Gimli had little doubt he mirrored the expression. 

"So, ah…" Really, where did they go from here? Gimli had no qualms of using the bed for more pleasurable exercises, but didn't know how Legolas would feel about that. Were they going to date? Go through traditional courting exercises? Meet each other's families? He felt fairly certain that this elf (elf indeed) was his One. There was no point putting energy into any kind of denial. This was the person he would spend the rest of his days and nights with, if he had anything to say about it. "That was good."

Legolas laughed, light and airy and joyful. Joyful. Because of Gimli. "Well, yes. I too enjoyed myself." He popped his eyebrows up once. "I like you Gimli. I would like to spend more time with you, get to know you." His expression dimmed a bit. Gimli squirmed. "I will be completely honest with you. I was intending to take a Mate Sabbatical after this term. I have been empty and seeking my Heart, the one who would fill the empty places in my soul with his song, that would help me grow and stand by my side. I think," he paused, almost seemed to flinch, but the movement was small enough to perhaps have been nothing, "you are that person. I do not wish to leave you. I—"

Gimli put his finger over Legolas' lips. He couldn’t help the stupid twist to his mouth. He couldn’t stop the pounding of his heart. "I feel the same. I did not know that elves had a special person; we dwarves call our special love 'One'. You, Legolas, you are mine. I know I am young and naïve about some things," he laughed a little ruefully, "but I am yours. I too wish to know more of you," (the taste of you, the feel of you), "and would be loath to have you leave to go find someone else to replace me." In fact, that idea made him feel a little pissed off.

"I shan't go anywhere without you, Meleth-nin." 

And Gimli could hear it in his voice. Love, adoration, hope, excitement, lust. A fistful of emotions all wound together in the form of a sweet promise.

Cradling Gimli's hand, Legolas pulled him close. With less timidity, their lips met, and Gimli asked for admittance with a swipe of his tongue. Legolas complied, a rumble filling his chest. Gimli ran his hand up Legolas' thigh, adding a little squeeze, then inching higher. Legolas' fingers explored Gimli's back even as his tongue explored his mouth. They dipped below his shirt line and danced across his skin. Gimli growled, he wanted more. Wanted out of these clothes. 

Then Legolas pulled back and a whine escaped Gimli's lips. 

His lips were kiss-swollen and a red splash to his skin told him exactly where Gimli's beard had marked its own territory. Gimli swelled with pride even as he questioned Legolas' withdrawal with his eyes.

"I must ask," Legolas said, breathing a little hard, "when your roommate is expected back. Because, if we go much further…" He shook his head. "I would not be able to stop." He inhaled deep and slowly released the breath.

Roommate? Oh crap! He had one, didn't he? "I've no idea." He frowned, and the frown turned into a pout. "Could be any time."

Legolas pulled even farther away, sitting upright on Gimli's bed. (Bed!) "Ah well. Umm." His nostrils flared as he took in another breath.

Crap. Crap. Crap. Where else could they go? He could text his roommate and tell him to NOT come home, at all, for a few hours. It would probably not take a few hours, because Gimli was ready ready ready for this, but there might be a round two. He was young. He could recover quickly.

"Perhaps, this is a good place to take a break." Legolas' face was redder than before.

What? Gimli panicked, desperate. Legolas couldn't just leave… "No!"

Legolas chuckled, the tone deeper than normal, thicker. Gimli couldn't resist a glance to the elf's crotch and saw he too was ready for something more than just a snog on the couch (bed!). "What do you suggest then, Gimli? I am open to other options." Legolas kissed Gimli again, swiping his tongue over Gimli's lips and leaned over him, causing Gimli to tumble backwards, bouncing on the mattress, and then Legolas was on him, spread long, one hip between his thighs. Their height differences disallowed them to completely align, but Gimli didn't give a toss right then. There was sweet pressure on his cock and hungry kisses on his mouth. He shifted his leg and pressed up between Legolas' and swallowed down the groan from the elf on top of him. Mahal, he was beautiful, and warm, and tasted like everything desirous in Gimli's life. Then there was a tug on his jeans, and (Oh Valar was Legolas undoing his pants!) and a hand pressed against him through his underwear and Gimli growled and pressed up. Eager for more. A stroke. A grip. He wanted Legolas around him. Wanted to feel everything.

"Oh Gimli. You are so beautiful." Down went the front of his underwear. "And strong." Fingers wrapped around his erection. "You feel so heavy in my hands." Stoke. "And I wish we had more time. And more privacy." Stroke. "So I could taste you, and feel your heat around me, and you inside me." Stroke. "And we could share everything together."

The feel of the body on him, the pressure around his erection, the heady words (not quite filthy, but certainly not chaste) burned Gimli, set him to boil and flare. The fire in his veins raced through his body as Legolas continued to stroke him off, his hand twisting at the top, giving his head just the right pressure, before he slipped his grip down again. Up, down, taking in the full length of him. Gimli's hips bucked, he couldn't stop it. He wanted to participate. He wanted to do all the things Legolas murmured in his ear.

"Come for me, Gimli. Come." Legolas licked around the outside of Gimli's ear and he bit on the lobe. The sharp pain zapped to his cock and he could feel the delight, the pressure, the exultation as his orgasm hit, raged through him like wildfire and coated his belly, his t-shirt and the hand of the elf that worked him over like the masterful artist he was.

Gimli felt boneless. His mouth open, he panted, taking in lungfuls of air. When he opened his eyes, he could see Legolas still leaning over him, glowing. He brought up his hand and licked Gimli's seed from his fingers, long, slow strokes of his tongue. Gimli's cock twitched at that. Those elegant fingers, wry lips twisted in a smirk. That tongue, darting out, taking up the milky liquid and swallowing it down. "Oh Legolas, you will be the end of me, I tell you. The end of me."

Legolas laughed delightedly. "Not yet, Meleth-nin. We've many miles to walk on this journey."

"What about you," he looked down the elf's body pointedly. 

"I want you, of course, but I can wait until there is a more appropriate," he glanced around the room, "and private location." And then he smiled down at Gimli and without a doubt, he knew Legolas loved him. And inside, his heart soared.

Legolas climbed off him and adjusted his own trousers.

Gimli looked down at himself (and he noticed Legolas took a good long look too.) His junk open for inspection, belly and shirt coated in white. "Could you go in my closet and grab a towel, please?"

Legolas returned with a towel and gently wiped Gimli off. Gimli was shy with embarrassment as he was cleaned of his own spunk (and because his equipment definitely enjoyed this extra attention). "There, you are clean. Though, you might like a new shirt."

Gimli pushed himself off the bed, legs a little weak, and stared up at his elf. He certainly was a tall bugger. 

"Shall I get on my knees for you, Gimli." Teasing delight danced in his eyes.

"Yes. I think you on your knees before me would be something I could live with."

They both laughed as Legolas complied. Shorter than Gimli while on his knees, the difference wasn't so bad, and they held and kissed each other slowly. Gimli could taste his bitter seed on Legolas' lips and that stirred a possessive beast within him. This was his One. He'd never believed he could feel this way.

They disengaged, and he stripped off his shirt. He could feel Legolas' eyes on him as he rummaged around for a clean one (he wouldn't admit to flexing his back a little, no, he wouldn't) and pulled on another thin t-shirt.

"Shall we get some lunch?" Legolas asked. "Though, I don't want to distract you from your studies."

Gimli laughed. "Today, I found my One. Studies be damned! I'll catch up tomorrow."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 

The piles of paperwork still reached halfway up his monitor when Gloin charged into his uptown office with some more of it. Thorin scowled at the papers, then turned his scowl on the dwarf. "More?"

Gloin rattled the papers. "Doesn't need your signature, just some new projects for you to look over, see if you want to take them on."

Thorin pushed back in his chair, letting the wheels take him away from his desk. "Set it there. I'm going to grab a bite. What did you think of them?"

Gloin frowned with a thoughtful nod. "All promising. Most I'd already rejected."

"Good. Come with me and give me a summary. Fish and chips sound good?"

The dwarves left the office for a local river cuisine restaurant, a large place with two levels, that served mainly breaded and fried river fish. It was past lunch, earlier than dinner, and the place wasn't as full as it typically was during crush time.

A bell dinged against the door as Thorin walked in. He stood by the "Wait to be Seated" sign, chatting with Gloin about a new bownsfield project that would repurpose an old brick warehouse into a shopping center with thermal heating and sustainable solar energy.

The waiter, a young Man that seemed nearly taller than Gandalf, led them to a table in the back. 

"Before you go," Thorin said to the waiter. "Just bring us two malts and two fish and chips."

"Yes, sir." The waiter jotted something down on a notebook and walked off. 

"So," Gloin continued, "they also have their own water reclamation system."

The waiter returned with water. Thorin sipped his as he continued to listen to this promising project. The bell tinged again. Thorin glanced up and nearly choked on his drink. Then he glanced over at his lunch partner. 

"You okay, Thorin?" Gloin went to pound him on the back, but Thorin shooed him away. 

"I'm fine." He coughed again, clearing his throat of water (and hoping the two newcomers did not get seated this way).

He focused on Gloin, nodding, but not hearing. He could still see the glowing couple (well the dwarf wasn't actually glowing, but the reflection of his teeth was sharp). Gimli and Legolas. Blond and red, tall and not-so-tall, smiling like giddy adolescents in love. Holding hands.

Thorin not-so-idly wondered if Gloin knew of this development. He studied his friend, rattling on and on, and Thorin guessed he had no clue.

The waiter began leading them towards Gloin and Thorin, and Thorin (focused on the near-ground but aware of the far-ground) saw Gimli halt in his careless saunter. Thorin wanted to mentally shout at them, "Run away." Instead he asked Gloin for numbers. "How much will this project cost, but better, how much can we make off it?"

"Well, I have it here." Gloin leaned down to grab something from his briefcase. Thorin fluttered his hands at Gimli and Legolas in a 'get out of here' gesture. He snatched his hands back down to the table when Gloin sat up and began rattling through the cost analysis. 

In the distance, the out of focus images of Gimli and Legolas quietly walked away.

  
art by stasia

~~~

After lunch, back in his office, alone, Thorin called Gimli. 

"Hello?" Gimli had that concerned tone of someone who felt they were ready to get yelled at but didn't feel they deserved such treatment.

"Gimli, have you told your father?"

"Ah, that would be a no."

"He should hear it from your mouth before he sees you _holding hands_ with that elf," (he was proud that he didn't growl out the world, really, he was rather progressive), "in public."

"Yes, sir."

"Don't let this sit. Tonight. Get it over with."

"But Thorin. You know how adad is."

"Yes, and I also know you don't want to have to sneak around with your One, now do you? It's good you found him." (Too bad it was an elf.) "Don't waste time. Got it?"

"You're right, Thorin. Thank you. I'll talk to adad tonight. Let's hope I'm not skinned alive."

Then Thorin heard in the background, "Skinned alive?", and he realized the elf was with him right now. (And Thorin was secretly jealous, because he wanted to be with his hobbit too.)

"Wear some armor just in case." Thorin hung up. He stared at his phone, wanting to hit the Bilbo button, but he knew this was his first day in the lab and he didn't want to disrupt his treasure when he was already as nervous as a sheep in a dragon's den.

~~~

With his gloved index finger, Bilbo Baggins scratched at the protective mask covering his nose and mouth. Elastic bands held it to his face, wrapped around his sensitive ears in a not very pleasant manner. A full-body plastic prophylactic suit hung from his frame. A net covered his hair. He even wore goggles that blurred his vision at the edges. There were _booties_ on his _feet_. The only thing bare to the air were splashes of skin on his cheeks and his ears.

He flexed his ears, pulling them back and feeling the scratch of the elastic band against his skin as he studied the creature in the glass-walled cage.

It was a gollum. 

Once a dwarf, though some men and elves also fell to the Arkenstone Virus, this sad, emaciated creature sat in a box, cowering from the overhead light. Its skin was gray and loose around the elbows and knees. A few tufts of hair sprouted from its head and ears. Most of its teeth had fallen to decay.

Bilbo had always thought gollums were supposed to be blue.

But perhaps the worst thing about this creature and its… mutation, were its eyes. Big, wide, blue eyes that shifted easily from hatred to a needling wretchedness. He'd (Bilbo thought of it as male since it had no apparent breasts) taken to Bilbo upon his first arrival when Bilbo had brought the poor thing his food. Raw fish. The gollum couldn't stomach anything cooked, nothing touched by fire. (And wasn't that a crying shame.) Wasn't a fan of too many vegetables, though Bombur told Bilbo: "He seems to have taken a liking to potatoes. Mashed, fried, baked. Nothing else cooked he'll touch, but he likes potatoes."

"Did it brings us fishies?" Gollum (the darned thing needed a name, not a title like 'the mutant') asked, crawling on all fours to the edge of his shadow within the box.

"I did, Gollum. I'll just slide it in your shute." Bilbo opened a sealed hatch, placed the fish (no dishes or plates, it truly was a terrible situation) onto the shelf and then closed the hatch. A _shwoop_ sound heralded the plopping of the fish into a shallow well in the floor where all of his food was dropped. Gollum hadn't taken kindly to silverware or other utensils and ended up only hurting himself with them. Bilbo then hit the dimmer, which dimmed the lights for five minutes.

In the darkness, Bilbo saw the miserable thing pad forward, the slap of his hands on the linoleum floor of his cage sharp in the dark. With a flash of motion, he snatched up the fish and began scampering all over the cage. Climbing the wooden gym the scientists had set up for him so he could get some exercise, swinging from one bar to another, tumbling down a slide. As the lights began their slow dawning, Gollum retreated to his box, fish gripped in his mouth, and then began to eat.

Bilbo watched the creature eat (disgusting eating manners) and once Gollum was finished, Bilbo returned to the lab.

The lab had many glass-faced refrigerators with various cultures in multiple stages of study. There were incubators that cooked bottles of blood-culture and slides with various smears. Bilbo readied some soy broth to grow another batch of the virus in a new serum Bifur hoped would slow or reverse the growth of the Arkenstone Virus. There were samples of blood, saliva, stool and urine from their one test subject, all nearly cataloged and labeled and kept safely away from anyone who could become infected.

One vector of the infection was through bodily fluids, so unless Gollum bit one of them, they would most likely be fine. And they kept the mutant so hopped up on docility drugs that he hadn't been violent with any of the scientists in months. Unfortunately, the virus was also airborne within Erebor. 

"How was the little mutant?" Bombur asked.

"The usual," Bilbo said, wiggling his ears against the elastic. Really, he was developing a callous back there. And wouldn't the boys from the Shire find that atrocious. "Why don't you keep the place dark for him?"

"He gets anxious. Cagy. Wants out." Bombur slurped down his cherry Big Squeeze and set the oversized plastic cup on the long table, leaving a wet ring on the chrome. "He seems more subdued in the light with the sedatives. Here," Bombur twirled his chair to the left, grabbed a box of slides, and twirled back towards Bilbo. "Will you scan these for any contamination?"

Bilbo took the box. Twenty slides. "Of course." He trotted off to his own (his _own_ ) work station and began the lengthy process before he had to leave to teach Shire Country Dance to his night class.

~~~

"This is your home?" Gimli twisted around, skipping his gaze up to the ceiling mural in the foyer. Twin grand staircases arched along the edges of the room and crawled up to the second level. Large vases sat in corners fragrant with fresh cut-blossoms. The tile beneath his feel was cool marble in greens and gold.

"My father's. But yes, I live here."

Legolas was very, very nervous.

Was he moving too fast? Or should he throw caution to the wind and _fall_? The Heart Song hummed steadily when Gimli was near. Soothing, loving. Completely familiar in a way his old bow had become after a millennium of battles. What would his father think? Well, he knew exactly what his father would think, but he couldn't dwell on that. What if he was here?

But what if he wasn't any good… (you know) in bed. 

He wanted things to be perfect. Was this perfect? Could he make it more perfect?

"Gimli—" 

Gimli continued to look around, mouth open, a kind of gold-lust awe sparkling in his eyes that Legolas hoped would fade away soon.

Then louder, "Gimli."

Gimli spun around, arms swaying from his body, catching himself as he faced Legolas.

"I – I don't want to move too fast. I want this to be right." He grabbed Gimli's strong shoulders. "I've never done this, and I don't want to do something wrong."

Gimli's expression revealed his shock, then softened, and he ran a hand up along Legolas' cheek. "I sorely want to be with you, Legolas, but I will go at any pace you like." He chuckled as he looked away. "If we were doing this by dwarven custom, I'd be making beads for your hair first."

"I would like that. A bead you made. I would wear it always. If this was elven custom, I would write you a song and together we would sing it to the moon and stars."

"Sounds lovely." Legolas nearly purred at the besotted look Gimli gave him. "I'd like to hear you sing." Gimli nodded, more to himself, Legolas thought, than to any outward question. (And Legolas agreed. With Gimli's low bass and his own tenor, he knew such music would be sweet.) "Shall we wait then?" Gimli asked, pressing his lips together. "I will find it quite the challenge to keep my hands off you." He grabbed Legolas and pulled their bodies together. Legolas floated to his knees and they were chest to chest. "To have you next to me," Gimli said, his voice low, their foreheads pressed together. "My lips upon yours."

Legolas shivered. "Ah, the silver tongue speaks again."

"But we shall wait. I should introduce you to my father before… Well, I think we are serious. It isn't like we are unsure."

"No, never. I am certain." He cupped Gimli's face (the Song crescendoed) and kissed his lips. "And you should meet mine. And I apologize now."

Gimli chuckled and tangled his fingers in Legolas' hair. The gentle pull sent a shiver up Legolas' body. "I should offer the same apologies. Most of the Company, well the older generation anyway, don't think much of elves."

"I shall endeavor to change their minds."

"Come then," Gimli said, "let us enjoy the evening nonetheless, with your sweet kisses and stories of our lives." Legolas stood and hand in hand he dragged Gimli to the den, where they cuddled on the couch, fingers dancing over skin, sharing parts of their lives between tender kisses.

And this is how Thranduil found them when he returned home for the evening.

~~~

Thranduil was stunned. Two male voices, low and amused, droned from the den. Chuckles and sighs. His own heart leapt in joy. His son truly had found someone. Had he heard the Song? He stopped himself from charging into the room, hesitant. Hopefully Legolas wasn't being reckless and fraternizing with some random easy body that came along. So, he considered it his fatherly duty to listen to the conversation. To gauge the importance of this elf over some mere tool to scratch an itch.

He liked the sound of the elf's voice. Low, flirty. Flirty! Thranduil couldn't help his smile, feel that spark of joy for his son who had been alone for far too long. As it was with elves, though. Thranduil himself had been alone for thousands of years. But after his One had passed into the west, he had no other thoughts to physical love. His heart had passed on with her.

"And then Fili jumped up on stage and took over the drum set. The drummer had been hoisted backstage, dealing with his seizure or fit, really I don't even remember what was wrong with him, but Fili just rolled his sticks over those drums and the crowd! Oh by Mahal, Legolas, (Thranduil's blood went cold) they were eating it alive. He had them in his hands and they loved it as much as he loved to play. It was electrifying. I … I can still remember that thrill. That, being part of something huge! Even if it's just one moment in music. Just one spark of feeling true life."

Mahal? That was the name the dwarves called Aule. Thranduil didn't want to look now. He had a very, very bad feeling.

"Ah, Meleth-nin," (Thranduil nearly choked) "I understand that charge within your chest. I too feel that spark when I read something truly real. Where words express something familiar and those old emotions surge within me. Or when I walk through a forest and maybe it's just new spring and the scents of the trees awakening to the year assail me, spin my own mind up into their branches and I can feel them sing, hear their joy at the coming warmth. This feeling. It is sometimes devastating. Overpowering. It brings tears to my eyes and I am stuck, just experiencing it, and I miss the passage of time."

And that feeling Legolas spoke of, so deep, so filling, hit Thranduil as he heard his son speak openly about things only another elf could understand. But this (could it be?) dwarf had felt them too. Thranduil felt like crying, panicking, running in there and tearing the den apart. Instead, he turned away to the kitchen to pour himself a drink. 

~~~

His father's couch was incredibly comfortable. A fire crackled in the hearth, nearly overheating the room. Legolas' mouth was sore from kissing Gimli's beard-framed lips. He hadn't kissed as much in the last five hundred years as he'd done tonight. He didn't want to look at the clock, but he knew it was late, and he should escort Gimli back to his dorm. He was a student still and had homework and Legolas had classes to teach in the morning. But Gimli's body was warm and pliant and willing and eager and he couldn't help but continue exploring his face and neck and ears with his lips and tongue.

He tried to keep his hands busy along Gimli's chest, clutching at his mat of hair (almost like a bear!), so soft and thick. Gimli, himself, was on good behavior as well. Neither going below the belt, though Legolas didn't think he could truly last much longer before they crossed that boundary already breached.

"How long until my bead is ready?' Legolas asked, lips pressed to lips.

"This weekend, I'll make it then. I'll have Thorin help me. He's good with a forge. And my song?

"I've already composed half in every kiss and touch I've given you. The rest will be easy."

Gimli laughed into his mouth. Legolas wanted this moment to never end. Never.

Finally, he pulled away and settled his forehead against Gimli's. "I must get you home. It's—" he finally looked at the clock. One o'clock. Damn. "...late."

"That it is." Gimli stifled a yawn, blinked, blushed. "Sorry, you're not boring me, in the least. Just, a long day."

Legolas shook his head, his hair shifting around his shoulders. Gimli reached out and cupped his hair, letting it cascade from his palm. "I love your hair, it's like silver moonlight, or the waterfalls of the Aduin. So gorgeous." He kissed the ends of it with a sigh. Then, with a more heavy sigh, he pulled away and stood from the couch. "Come, take me home, you ravenous elf, so I can get my brain to sleep." He reached out and Legolas gave him his hand. 

They left the den and passed by the entrance to the kitchen. Legolas nearly stumbled. His father was there, an empty bottle of wine on the table, glass with just a smidge in the bottom, watching them. Gimli plowed into him, looked up at Legolas and then the direction he was looking, and turned to face Thranduil. His hand squeezed Legolas', then relaxed.

"Hello Lord Thranduil," Gimli bowed, "Gimli, Gloin's son, at your service. I intend to court your son." Legolas stared at him, flabbergasted, his quick excuse and explanation dashed to the wind. Gimli was right, there was no excuse. No reason to weave lies. There was only this, the truth. 

Legolas faced his father and gave him a most sincere smile while clutching onto Gimli's arm. "Father, he is my Heart. I have found him. Here, in the university." 

Gimli looked up at him, and he glanced down at his dwarf. _His_ dwarf. Oh, how he loved him.

Thranduil rose and stalked through the kitchen to where Legolas stood with Gimli. His father held out his hand. Gimli let go of Legolas' and the two males shook.

"It is a pleasure to me, Gimli, that my son has found you. I admit to being… shocked to find out you were not an elf. But the heart knows what the heart knows and I would not take any joy away from him. You are welcome." He dipped his head, and as he retired from the kitchen, he gently brushed Legolas' shoulder.

Legolas nearly crumbled in relief. "Well, that wasn't so bad," Gimli said.

"Only you, my dear Gimli, could have earned such a welcome from my father. You are a marvel."

~~~

At 7 A.M. banging echoed through the foyer. "Kili, see whose gone rabid at the door," Thorin yelled from his home office. He scrolled through a spreadsheet Balin had emailed to him about the costs and supplies needed for a trip to Erebor. He would have to liquidate some stocks to fund it. Perhaps he could get some grant, or other benefactor to host a portion of the expedition. 

Banging again, and then it abruptly stopped. 

He'd need to take some dwarves familiar with exploration of ruins, and of course scientists once the antivirus (he hoped they could get that far) was developed. He would want Bifur and Bombur to come, but they weren't hardened travelers, not since their exodus.

Somebody was charging down the hall, the door banged open and Gimli stood there, panting, hair a bit of a halo around his head, and the happiest grin Thorin had ever thought he'd seen on the young dwarf. He clicked the door closed behind him and then (hopping on his feet) said, "Thranduil accepted me. I got an okay from his _father_."

Thorin stood. Gimli bounded to the desk and slapped his large hands against the wood. "I need a courting bead. For Legolas' hair. I was hoping you could help me. Make it. In your forge."

Thorin was nodding along with Gimli's over-excitement. "Yes, yes of course. Thranduil accepted you? The elf Lord?"

Such things did not happen in this Age.

"Yes. He _welcomed_ me." Gimli threw his hands in the air and then gripped his hair (and now Thorin understood the state of it.) "Legolas couldn't believe it, either. It's really happening!"

Thorin came around his desk and took up Gimli in his arms and lifted him off the ground with a grunt.  
"Good for you! We can fire up the forge tomorrow evening, if that works for you. What were you thinking? Gold? Mithril?"

"Actually, I was thinking silver or mithril, the color would suit him better." Gimli's blush flamed as fiercely as his hair. "But, I've no mithril, and I've several silver pieces that I could use in making the bead. And I'm sure it won't take many." He squared off his shoulders and looked so proud. Gimli was an adult now, an adult making _courting beads_. Thorin remembered when the lad made mud pies. 

"I've some mithril for just this purpose."

Gimli went still. "Oh Thorin, you sure. I mean, I'm just..."

"You are a part of my family, the son of a great friend. A cousin. I happily give you my mithril and my aid in making this bead. But I must ask, how did your father take the news?"

Gimli snapped his mouth shut and suddenly went pale.

"Gimli."

"I don't know how!" More throwing of his arms into the air. (Was Gimli always this theatrical?) "Marching up to Thranduil and telling him I was courting his son was _easy_ compared to even mentioning the word 'elf' in my father's presence."

"Oh, I don't think he's all that anti-elf. Especially if he finds out how much Legolas means to you. Legolas is a good lad (for an elf) and I think he is good for you. You've never seemed so happy, Gimli." He patted Gimli on the shoulder.

"Hmm, if you really think so."

Thorin wasn't feeling quite the optimism he was portraying, but he knew Gloin loved his son, and the love written all over Gimli's face was nothing anyone could overlook.

"I do."

~~~

Gimli sleepwalked through class all day, mind categorizing pros and cons, and after realizing the deed would have to be done at some point in time (unless he wanted to steal Legolas away and elope to the Misty Mountains), he decided he must face his father. Though the decision was set, it didn't stop his stomach from churning with worry and bile.

Around dinner time, Gimli returned to the house that encompassed most of his adolescence. He used his key to enter, hearing a racket in the kitchen. "Drink your orange juice," came the voice of Gimli's mother, a woman never to be put off. "It's cold season and you always end up sniffling for weeks. You didn't drink it for breakfast, so you'll drink it now."

"Adel, I hate orange juice." His father was completely unmanned when his mother was concerned. "Just, give me a pill."

"Pills. Those sit in your stomach like a ball of hair. Undigestible. Here. Orange juice."

Gimli poked his head into the kitchen nook, all bright cheerful yellow walls and single hung windows. Adel, still dressed from her day in the office, plunked a plate of mashed potatoes and grilled meat of some sort on the table before his father, and an overly large glass of orange juice. (The pulpy kind, which Gloin had a particular hatred for.)

Gimli strode into the kitchen and swooped up Gloin's orange juice and downed it for him. Then set it back down five second before his mother turned around and noticed him.

"Gimli!" Adel said and wrapped him up in her arms. "Oh, my dear boy." She held him out at arm's length, looked him up and down, her eyes growing wide at whatever it was she'd found. "Oh, I see," she said, sly and sultry. "I understand. Gloin, dear, Gimli has something to say to you. I’m going to take a hot bath." She poured herself a glass of red wine and glided out the kitchen with a backward wave.

Confused, but apparently relieved about the juice, Gloin smiled at this son, grousing companionably, "That confounded woman." He scooped some potatoes onto his plate. "So, what does your mother know that I don't?"

Gimli eyed the meat and wondered if it was beef or lamb. "Well, Adad, that could be a long list."

"Oh, you, welp. Mind your respect for your elders. Here, have some potatoes. Gravy's on the stove."

Gimli scooped some potatoes onto his plate and ladled some brown gravy (from a packet) over the white mound, then forked a hunk of meat his father had left for him onto the pile. 

Gloin scanned the paper as he bit into a hunk of meat, chewing diligently. Gimli got his father a glass of water and a vitamin C pill from the cupboard. Gloin glanced up from his paper, eyebrows lifted. He continued chewing, then swallowed, and with some wariness, grabbed the pill and swallowed that with a mouthful of water.

"And so, what have you gotten yourself into?"

"Well, Adad, you see—" Gimli glared at his plate. The meat was slowly sinking into the mire of potatoes. "I've met someone—"

"By Mahal's hammer!" Gloin jumped to his feet and rounded the kitchen table to swallow Gimli up in his bear hug. "And you're so young! You found… Wait." Gloin's eyes roamed all over Gimli's face and Gimli wondered what he was searching for. "Yer not settling, lad, are you? No need to rush, you've plenty of years. Just because your mother and I found each other young, doesn't mean it's a failing if you don't yerself."

Gimli gripped his father's forearms, squeezed, tried to pass through to his father by the strength of his fingers just how certain he was (and if he left some bruises, maybe that would hold more truth than words). "He is my One."

Gloin released Gimli and took a step back. His expression a blend of stunned and delighted, perhaps an expression only parents could perfect. "Is he now? Tell me, how do you feel when yer with him?"

Gimli couldn't stop the soppy grin. He didn't want to. And his father returned it, so he didn't feel too ashamed. "Like I lost my footing, and I'm just stumbling along. All I want to do it hold him and kiss him… and then there's sometimes this dizziness. But that was mainly when I first met him. It's so silly. I feel like I’m about to swoon like some silly maiden. He fills my heart, like listening to a fine orchestra with my eyes closed. It's like he surrounds me, completely, and there is nowhere else I'd rather be.

"And," and now he couldn't stop the pure fire scorching in his cheeks, "my blood burns for him."

"Oh, my boy." Gloin hugged him again, and Gimli clung to his father, overwhelmed at putting the sensation into such inadequate words. He wanted to keep trying, to keep searching for the right expression, the turn of phrase to bring this feeling to life, but there were no words. Fortunately, his father understood. His father had found his own One, and he understood.

"Now, sit a spell—Thorin won't mind if I'm late—and tell me about his lad of yours."

Gimli sat back down in his chair, pushing the plate to the side. Suddenly, the smell of it wasn't that appetizing. "Well, he's… ah, beautiful, with long blond hair—"

"A blond one." He took a bite, swallowed. "Didn't know you went for the pale ones," his father teased.

"And he's older than me…" Gimli said tentatively.

Gloin chuckled, but then gave Gimli a falsely stern look. "Oh, yeah? How much?"

"Well, he is a professor."

"A learned man. There's nothing wrong with a bit of an age difference. Now, what mountain does he come from?"

"Well, you see. He's not from one of the mountains."

"Not from the mountains." His father's brows bunched as he struggled to suss out where Gimli's One might hail from. "Not from the Blues or the Iron? Not from the Misty's?" Gimli shook his head, the pill of dread growing to a stone. "He's not… descended from Erebor is he?"

He offered his father one more shake.

"Oh come now, Gimli." Gimli's father smacked his lips. "I hate to ask his, but you're putting me in a bind. Is—he a dwarf?" 

Gimli bit his cheek and couldn’t hold back any longer. "Adad, he's an elf."

His father's face, frozen into that curious horror that his son might be bonded to a Man, crumbled into a wasteland of despair. That despair was then blown away by a torrent of rage.

"An elf!" he bellowed. "An _elf_? Why do you come to me and tell me of you and an _Elf_. Why would you do this thing to me, your father? Did I not raise you right? Teach you the ways of Durin's folk?" He spun away from Gimli, voice low and muttering. "This is because of that fascination with that singer. The White Sorceress. She twisted you. Twisted you into –"

"Adad! Listen to me. His name is Legolas Greenleef—"

"Greenleaf!" Gloin sputtered

"—and he is my One, and he feels the same." Gimli had gripped his hands before him, pleading with his father. "I am his One. He is smart and kind, and Thorin has met him. They got along. Please, just meet Legolas. Just try to give him a chance."

"Why couldn’t you have settled for a dwarf? How 'bout Dori? No handsomer dwarf you'd ever find!"

"Dori? He's so old!"

Gloin leveled a glare at Gimli. Right, wrong argument. "Dori is not my One. He does not complete me. Does not cause my heart to soar. Adad. I love Legolas though I've just met him. There is not a thing I can do to change my heart. My soul. Imagine meeting mother and then turning away from her."

Gloin's face paled, still he shook his head. "I don't think—"

Gimli stepped away, teeth grinding together. "You don't get to think on it, Adad. Though I do not need your approval, I sorely wish for it. Let your head cool and we shall talk some more. I've got homework." Gimli stormed from his house, eyes burning, throat constricted around his rage and frustration.


	5. chapter 5

Chapter 5

Standing in the center of a gravel parking lot, Thorin nodded at Legolas and muttered, "Thank you for meeting with me."

Legolas, that damned know-it-all, smirked at him. "It is my pleasure. I hope that I can be of adequate assistance in your hunt."

Adequate? He was an elf, and a botanist at that. An expert dressed in tweed and pressed slacks. Of course he could find meaningful flowers that Bilbo would adore.

Bilbo. 

Thorin calmed. Just a turn of the mind to the hobbit calmed it. It was a little sickening really, but who was he to dismiss the heart's love. He would be nice, pleasant even, to this elf (who really had proved himself a decent sort) not only because he was Bilbo's friend, but also because he was Gimli's One. He would be… (cough, gag) family soon.

"These are the best wholesale greenhouses in Gondor. They've plants from all over Middle-earth, so the variety is second to none," Legolas explained as he pulled the door to the first greenhouse wide. A gush of warm, moist air puffed over them, tossing their long hair about.

"So, I was told." Thorin entered and stared around at the tall glass ceiling, the shelves of greenery, the jungle of life with bright sparks of color mixed in. He'd never been one for plants (other than what he could eat and smoke), but he knew Bilbo delighted in growing things. Thorin was like winter, solid and constant. Bilbo was spring, forever in motion, forever blossoming.

He glanced over at Legolas, who glowed in the moist air. And that elf, he was summer. Vibrant and alive. Gimli, red-headed Gimli, was he autumn? Thorin scoffed. Gimli was no quiet decay, was no slowing down to slumber. He was as spring as Bilbo. A bright flower. Thorin laughed at himself. Gimli would raise his hackles for the comparison… (Though Thorin would like to see him try anything more.)

"Bilbo loves vegetable gardens, you know," Legolas said, walking down the aisles of plant life, his hands clasped behind his back, putting his reinforced elbows on show. The professor wore brown trousers, dark brown oxfords, and a tweed coat. His shirt, a pale green, was nearly the only color on him. Other than his eyes. The color Gimli wanted to capture in his bead. 

"Vegetables? Then, why are we here?" He turned in a circle, arms out and encompassing the entirety of the green leafy house plants. Damn it was hot. He slid his leather jacket off and carried it over his arms.

"Tomatoes and cabbages. Those are his favorites. Though, his neighbor is quite skilled at growing potatoes. Best in all New Shire I've been told." Legolas was smiling. Thin-lipped and mocking.

"Shall I buy him some beefsteak then?" Thorin asked dryly.

Legolas threw his head back and laughed. The sound lifted up into the glass ceiling, tinkling back at them like a fall of rain. Damned elf. Then Legolas leveled a look at Thorin. "I'm sure he'd enjoy a beefsteak if that's what you had on offer."

Thorin groaned, but the annoyance turned into amusement and the groan grew into a laugh. "I sure hope so, Legolas." He nodded to himself, grinning at the thought. Then shook his head. He would not have _this_ conversation about _his_ Bilbo with an _elf_. "But now, we are here for flowers." He scanned the green houseplants. "Something Bilbo will want to hold and treasure, and when he looks at them, he will always think of me." He snatched a look at the elf. The elf was looking at him. For a moment the two (enemies) were captured in a current of parallel desires and their similarities outpaced their differences. At least on this day.

"Yes, I understand. Why don't we continue and see what we can find."

Thorin spotted a purple-throated yellow flower and he trotted over to it. He cupped the bud in his hand, sniffed (no smell) but still the spark of color was certainly eye-catching.

"Hagnose Iridell. The iridell love wet soil and partial shade. They don't have a smell. They bloom— when not in a greenhouse—late spring until the soils tend to dry out, then they die off leaving behind a large seedpod. The pod for the hagnose, as you can imagine, is quite indicative." Legolas touched his finger along the edge of a paper thin petal. "In elvish lore, the ifidell grew from the ground where Duramur fell during the Battle of Crossed Knives. He was shot by an enemy arrow, though he was the greatest of warriors. It's a symbol of too much humor."

Thorin pulled his hand away. "Perhaps not that one."

Legolas chuckled, a light yet sorrowful sound. "It is a beautiful flower, though. Thorin," he asked, stopping his survey of the greenhouse. "What is the message you would like to convey?"

Wasn't that obvious? "What flower would you give to Gimli?" he asked instead of trying to wrap his feelings into answers.

Legolas' eyes eased, his mouth softened, his shoulders relaxed. It was creepy, in a sweet kind of way. This immortal elf was mushy over his little cousin (though distant and connected a few generations back), who would only live a portion of the elf's long life. Thorin's thoughts unfortunately turned to Bilbo's middle age. He'd only have fifty or so years with his Hobbit. It was enough to crush his heart. So little time.

"I would plant him honeysuckle, so that when it rained their scent would cradle him in the storm. And rows and rows of sunset hibiscus, their red complimenting the fire of his hair. And perhaps a field of never-forgets, to show him how strong I think he is." Legolas closed his eyes. Thorin waited, wondering if there was more sentiment to come, or if the elf was trapped in some fugue. 

Legolas laughed. "I would give him acacia to braid into his hair."

Thorin leaned back. "You wish to braid his hair?"

Legolas blushed, the elf's glow simmered a little brighter. "Yes, I wish to braid it and run my fingers through it. I've wanted to… since the first moment I saw him."

It was Thorin's turn to blush. Such audacity. And to speak of such things in the open. "Well, perhaps he'll let you, in private."

More of that laughter, and Thorin could not stop his own smile in return.

The two continued to discuss the garden that Thorin would build Bilbo. "I've planned most of the backyard to be renovated. I want to leave some of it for him to design. If he wants to."

"So, he will live with you?"

Thorin's face grew hot. "I hope so, elf. I sorely pray for it."

Legolas rested his hand on Thorin's shoulder. "He loves you with his spirit. He cherishes you with his heart. Though I know he delights in his smial, he knows home is the family you've chosen, not the building that houses them. You will work something out."

"I heard," Thorin cleared his throat, suddenly choked up, "that your father has accepted Gimli."

Again that glow intensified. "Yes," Legolas said softly. "Yes, I am very lucky."

Legolas looked away and headed farther down the greenhouse to another one connected by a covered walkway. Their footsteps echoes against the wooden flooring. They examined flowers, plants, trees even. Thorin wondered if he should stick with tomatoes and cabbages with a line of never-forgets along the edge. Some fragrant sweetgrass and night blooming sweetling vine.

"Oh, Ovata Vora." Legolas stopped before an ashy colored, fleshy leafed plant of little beauty. 

"Does it have any meaning?"

Legolas, far more excited than he'd seem him all day, shook his head. "No. It's a very rare plant, one, I admit, I had thought was no longer. It once grew in Mordor, before the shadows grew there." Thorin nodded with feigned interest, but was ready to move on to find something better for Bilbo's garden. Legolas grabbed him. Thorin scowled.

"Thorin," Legolas ignored Thorin's pointed glare, "this plant was once the most useful medical plant known to elves. It has been little studied by modern science. It's an antivirus with some of the old magic. _Antivirus_."

The two locked eyes, wheels turned. Thorin grabbed up the plant and they nearly ran to the cash register.

~~~

Three dwarves, one hobbit and one elf stood around a dwarf-sized formica table in the laboratory, studying the broad leafed plant with uncertainty, hope and calculated care.

"I could try to propagate this one, creating many more plants, though they would all be clones. The greenhouse proprietor had no idea where he'd gotten the Ovata Vora, it just came on some shipment from the west, he said." Legolas didn't sound so sure of himself. Bilbo watched him, the high color on his cheeks, the sharp excitement in his eyes. This was one of Legolas' dreams, to restore forgotten and lost plants. In all the texts, this plant, this Ovata Vora, was listed as extinct. One of many beneficial species from beyond the Ephel Dúath that were lost during the rise of the Dark Lord.

Bilbo slipped his gaze to Thorin. The leader of the Dwarves was lost in thought, the plant seemed to forge a path to his homeland faster than any plan the two scientists had hitherto promised. Bombur and Bifur were chatting in Khudzil, which Bilbo secretly knew a smidge of, but wasn't fluent. Another sly glance at Thorin. He would learn it soon enough.

"The roots are what hold most of the avoberberine," Legolas continued, tapping this lips with a finger, hmming low to himself. "And we can't destroy the plant for one chance at your cure-all."

The scientists grumbled, but Thorin cut off their protests. "Legolas is correct. This is a wondrous find and we can't throw it away in rash actions. Legolas, please, do what you can to grow more of this plant. I leave it to you." He bowed.

Legolas tilted his head and nodded in acknowledgment. "I will do all that I can, Thorin. Have no worries. In this, I shall put my all, for you and Gimli, and for the reestablishment of your home. I shall take it, if you do not mind, to my own greenhouse. I have books covering the Mordor plants, and I'm sure it will discuss the best soil and moisture. This is not an immediate answer. It could take a season, or a few years, to establish a solid enough population."

Bilbo didn't like the idea of making Thorin and his family wait a few years, though certainly it meant little to the immortal elf. But he knew Legolas was being logical. Still. "How about we find out where this western shipment came from. There has to be paperwork on the shipping company and which greenhouse the plant came from. There could be more."

Bombur pointed at Bilbo. "Brilliant! He's got it, Thorin. This plant just didn't _appear_. Someone grew it. Harvested it. There's probably a mountain full of this stuff growing happily, just waiting to cure AV!" The jolly dwarf flailed, almost knocking over a stand of vials behind him.

"Right," Thorin said, rubbing his fingers against his beard. "We'll set up a group to track down this plant. Legolas will care for this single specimen. And you two will prepare whatever you need to synthesize what you might get, create vaccines or antivirals, or cures. Whatever it is you can do now. Perhaps, if Legolas finds it safe, he can give you a small portion of the plant to work with." He turned his gaze on every one of them, and when he met Bilbo's eyes, Bilbo shivered. So intense. So determined. (It was quite the turn on.) Then that gaze softened, though lost none of its intensity. "Bilbo, will you continue to help in the lab?"

"Well, of course. Anything. However, if you might be going west, I could help there. I'm from the northwest, you know. I know that country." He pressed his lips together, loath to separate himself from Thorin, but knowing he had to do anything, everything to help him. "I've got some cousins up there. But, I will do which ever you would advise, of course."

"Let's wait to see what comes of our search from the greenhouse manager. But thank you. If you think you could aid best in that, then I trust your judgment."

Bifur coughed, then looked away. Bombur elbowed him. Legolas said nothing, but the edges of his lips twitched. 

~~~ 

Swaddled in layers of polyethylene and rubber, Bilbo watched Gollum bite into the slightly cooked piece of beef. Huddled in the shadows, the poor thing flinched as he set his teeth against the flesh. Bilbo (big-hearted that he was) squinted as he watched. 

It'd been another long day in the lab and exhaustion sapped some of his compassion. His neck was sore, his eyes burned. Gollum gingerly nibbled a bite off the whole. Then with a happy humming noise, he gummed his tidbit for a few minutes. 

Though a part of Bilbo wanted nothing more than a good bath and a deep sleep, he had a date and one that he would not miss.

"Enjoy your dinner, Gollum. Until tomorrow." He waved at the creature, who ignored him for chewing on his dinner.

He entered the fumigation chamber and waited as the _woosh_ of chemical rain sprayed him for seven seconds, then he stood through a quick blow dry. The doors opened and Bilbo stepped from the chamber and removed all of his protective gear (he had developed calluses on his ears by now) and washed up in the lab showers, using that abrasive, harsh soap that was supposed to kill anything even closely resembling a germ with the aid of scalding water. Though he enjoyed his time in the virus lab helping Bombur and Bifur, he would not regret the loss of these atrocious washing conditions.

Of course, if he quit visiting the infected specimen.... 

He changed into his normal clothes: trousers, linen shirt, waistcoat, cravat. He finger-brushed out his curls to let them air dry. In the tall mirror, he stood straighter. Pulled back his shoulders. He was just a simple hobbit. An instructor for dances that were old-fashioned and from a small Shire culture. Certainly, being a professional student he'd garnered a bit of knowledge here and there, but Thorin... _Thorin_ , he was a king. 

He pulled on his dark blue calf-length coat and surveyed himself. Dashing, if he did say so himself. As any gentlehobbit should be. Still, he couldn't help but wonder...

Was he good enough?

But, Bilbo knew his heart. He wasn't the kind of hobbit to keep truths from himself. He wasn't the type of hobbit to dismiss his own desires. Thorin stirred his heart. Thorin made him laugh, and blush, and burn from just one look. Thorin had integrity and intelligence. He was kind, though strict with his people. Thorin had depths that Bilbo thought he would never tire of. He wanted Thorin. He would do all he could for Thorin.

And, to be fully honest with himself (and he was that kind of a hobbit), he thought Thorin felt the same.

He took in a big breath, his shoulders lifting with the action, and released it.

He popped his head into the office near the exit. "Goodbye Bombur, Bifur. I promise to bring some of my red-violet cake tomorrow. You'll love it!"

Bombur brightened. "Sounds lovely, Bilbo. And if you have the time, some of your cheese scones." He leaned over, in a partial melt if his actions could be deciphered. "I just love those."

"Trust me, my cake is better! I'll make extra scones for the kids, though."

Bifur said something, nodded, grinned. He'd said something about nice or enjoyment. A kind of canned phrase Bilbo thought might mean, 'Have a nice time.' Bilbo nodded and grinned back, then he left the lab.

Pulling his collar up against the drizzle, he waited at a covered bus stop with two female humans. His phone had no messages, and he was tempted to call Thorin, just to chat, as he rode the bus to the restaurant district where they were meeting for dinner. But... that might come across as a little needy. The man sitting two seats behind him coughed liquidly. Bilbo cringed, but turned and offered him his last cough drop with a smile.

Bilbo fiddled with the things in his pocket, head resting against the fogged window. Keys, a stick of gum, change. Oh, Eru, was he really going to do this?

He climbed out of the bus and trotted to The Silmaril, wishing for an umbrella. He'd never been here before, a little more on the high class side than he tended to enjoy. He fiddled with his cravat and hoped it'd be good enough.

He shook his head. Of course it was good enough. Squaring his shoulders he entered the restaurant through a set of glass double doors and was greeted by a maitre d', who was dressed in a tuxedo, was a tall Man and had a very stiff gray mustache. 

Bilbo cleared his throat. "I've got reservations with Thorin Oakenshield. He's meeting me here."

"You must be Mr. Baggins." The man offered a slim bow and said, "Please follow me."

Dimly lit by overhead lights, most of the lighting came from intimate candles on each of the round tables scattered in the dining room. The majority of the patrons of the restaurant were dressed formally, a few full out in tuxedos, but Bilbo felt, though he was a little culturally off-center from the Men of Gondor, he was perfectly attired for a formal Shire affair. Then Bilbo saw, him, Thorin, dressed in a fine dwarven outfit, kingly in its extravagance: a richly embroidered tunic with gold and silver threads that possibly _were_ gold and silver. Beautiful boots and freshly pressed slacks. He was beautiful. His hair and beard were silky, and Bilbo wondered how long he'd brushed the length of it. The braids were neat. Bilbo warmed instantly at the sight of him.

Thorin stood, saying, "Bilbo," and reached out to take Bilbo's hands. Bilbo let him, and they looked into each other's eyes a little too long for public, but public could just turn its nose to the tabloids and leave their little love affair alone. 

"Thorin, how are you?" And the two settled into such companionable conversation that when the waiter showed to take their drink orders, Bilbo nearly jumped from his chair.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry. I haven't even looked at the menu."

"Bilbo, how about some Algorod Estate Merlot?"

Bemused, Bilbo shrugged. "If you recommend it, sure."

Thorin grinned. "One of my favorites, and I'd love for you to try it." Thorin then ordered a bottle and Bilbo stuffed his hands into his pockets and fiddled with the things resting there.

They looked at their menus, and Bilbo thought he'd order spring greens, onion soup (oh, how he loved onion soup), caprese salad, and the lamb for his main course. Thorin laughed. "Would you like some bread as well? How about hors d'oeuvres? I would not want you to go hungry." He said this with such solemnity, that Bilbo straightened in his chair.

"This will probably count for dinner and supper, and I'd hate to miss either." Bilbo struggled to keep an unreadable look on his face, but couldn't under Thorin's own sneaking smirk. 

"Oh, I would hate to starve you." Then Thorin grew serious. "I'd do nothing to make you seek companionship elsewhere."

Bilbo's fingers wrapped around that thing in his pocket. The _thing_. Did he do it? Was now the time?

Bilbo was not a person to let the things he wanted slip away. He took a deep breath and pressed his lips together. "Thorin."

"Bilbo?"

"These past few months with you have been... Well, let's just say I've never... had this much contentment and fun with anyone else. Perhaps this is a little formal, or even a little pretentious, but I want to alert you that I intend to court you."

There. It was said.

"And... " he pulled the metal key from his pocket and slid it across the tablecloth, "here is a key to my smial. You are welcome at any time. Any day. Tea is typically at four, though lately I've been at the lab."

Thorin said nothing. Then a smile, a full line of teeth, and a sparkle in his eyes, told Bilbo everything he needed to know. The pitter-patter of his heart sent shakes to his hands. 

"Bilbo," the dwarf said with all seriousness, "I accept your proposal to court and must say, I was going to propose something more... official as well. Though," here he grinned again, pressed his lips together to try to control it, and gave up, "here your declaration has brought me great delight. To know you wish the same as I."

He took up the key and made a presentation of sliding it onto his key ring.

Bilbo slumped back into the chair. Just then the wine arrived and Thorin took up his class and lifted it. Bilbo responded in turn. "To our future together," Thorin said. And that was one toast Bilbo could agree to.

"To us," he said and took his drink. The couple to their left toasted as well. Bilbo felt hot all over.

They were on dessert when Thorin asked, "So, can you tell me more about hobbit courting?"

Bilbo wiped his mouth with his napkin (damn that cheesecake was good) and placed it back on his lap. "Well, there are generally three steps. The spoken intention, which we have exchanged. Then an exchange of gifts, typically hand made." He looked down at this cleaned plate and said, "I hadn't expected you to ... make anything for me since you are not aware of the traditions, but I have been working on something... " He stopped. He didn't want to ruin the surprise. He batted his hand through the air, dismissing that line of explanation. "Anyway, the third step would be an introduction to the families. Back in the Shire, it always ended up as a big party under the Party Tree with both families and all and sundry invited. Hobbit families are, well, rather large. With cousins and second cousins and whatnot." He pressed his lips together, then quirked them to the side as he often did when thinking. "I've no family here. All of them are back in the Shire, cousins, mainly. And if possible... I would take you there to meet them. I only give a toss about a few, but…."

"And then what?" Thorin asked, his voice deep and somehow tender.

"Ah, well, then we can ... " He lost himself in Thorin's blue eyes. "Well, we can be together. Like... marry... if you wanted."

Oh Eru. Married. 

Thorin reached into an inside pocket of his overtunic and pulled out a small silver bead. "Bilbo, dwarves search all their lives for their One. It's something that can hit them immediately when they meet someone for the first time, or it can slowly build up through lengthy acquaintance. Bilbo, from the moment I met you, I knew you were somehow... different. I didn't quite know how or why, but as our friendship grew, I knew what it was. You are my One."

Bilbo gasped.

Thorin's eyes grew soft. "We too have the crafting and gifting step to our courting, Bilbo. I made you this bead. I wasn't sure when to give it to you, when to ask..." He lowered his eyes, the thick lashes hiding away the blue for just a second, then he looked up again, "…you to marry me. It would honor me for you to be my husband. To share my life with me. My family has already met you and they love you as much as I." (That pitter-patter gave way to a charging bull.) "I am ready, whenever you are, to share my life with you."

Someone at a table nearby (Not the couple on the left this time. A quick glance announced they had quite the attention of the floor.) made a cooing _Ahh_ noise. Bilbo reached across the table, took up Thorin's hands, and kissed them.

~~~

The drink burned, but had a nice cinnamon taste. Legolas nodded to Tauriel (for not killing him). She smirked and glided a way. That didn't bode well. He eyeballed the drink once again. Sipped. Let the burn slide down this throat.

He and Bilbo were huddled at their table near the potted plants, talking quietly under the clamor of a full Smaug's. It was game day, and everyone wore the colors of green and white.

"So," he said after a full body shiver, "You're engaged?!" It seemed so fast, though he knew how Thorin felt about Bilbo and how Bilbo felt about Thorin. Why waste time. And then he thought about Gimli and his own dopey smile slipped on his face again. "I'm really happy for you."

"I – I can't even—" Bilbo gave a pained expression, shook his head. Eyes wide he finished, "I might pass out."

Legolas laughed and clapped Bilbo on his back. "Do not be worried. You love Thorin," Bilbo nodded, "and you want to spend the rest of your life with him," Bilbo nodded more frantically, "so what is it that has you so worried?"

"I'm just so happy, and I wonder if…" he leaned towards Legolas and whispered (Legolas barely caught the words), "if this is real."

Legolas whispered back, "That something might take it away from you?"

Bilbo nodded.

"You won't let them," Legolas said. "Neither will Thorin. Nor I. Nor Thorin's friends. You are surrounded by stalwart companions, Bilbo. Accept your happiness with open arms."

Bilbo's smile came by degrees and he still had a slightly green look about him, but he nodded. "Wise words from a member of the Wise. Thank you, Legolas." He took in a steeling breath and then said, "And it looks like right after our courting has begun, I'm to leave him."

"What? Why?" This made no sense to Legolas.

Bilbo pressed a grin onto his face. "That is the second reason I asked you out for drinks." His legs swung under the table, then landed on the bar around the stool's central stem.

"Not just my wise words?" Legolas smirked.

Bilbo shook his head, his floppy curls dancing about. "I am tasked with aiding a crew of dwarves in finding more Ovata Vora. Nori found out where the plant was collected," Legolas perked up at this, "and it was around the Tower Hills, west of my homeland."

"That is amazing! Do you need any aid? I have studied this plant these past few days, both from historical records and from the plant itself, and have discovered early propagation techniques and its preferred soils." What a find. What if they could find more of this plant? Legolas could help restore it to the gardens of Middle-earth and perhaps even to its original meadows in Mordor. It was an opportunity he had to convince Bilbo to let him in on.

"Well actually," Bilbo cradled his hands in his lap, "I was hoping you could go."

(Well, that was easy.)

"Yes!" Legolas jumped from his stool and cheered in the middle of the bar. (Maybe that drink was stronger than he supposed.)

Someone near the door cheered back. "Gondor Rocks!" 

"We'd be gone for at least two weeks. Thorin has already secured a driver and trailer that can sleep us as well hold lab equipment, refrigeration, etc."

Two weeks. He could get a sub for two weeks. Perhaps his T.A. could take over his lower level classes. Certainly for such an important botanical find, his father would have no qualms of allowing him this leave. But he wouldn't see Gimli for those two weeks. Legolas stared down at Bilbo. And Bilbo wouldn't see Thorin. They would wallow in their sty of misery together.

"It would be an honor to join you. Few things would make me pass up such an opportunity." Gimli would understand.

~~~

"I understand." Gimli sighed, then nodded, his lunch forgotten. The thick scent of spices and curry filled Legolas' office, but he was loath to open the door during the few moments he had with his Heart. "It's a great opportunity for you, and your study of … plants. And you're helping me… us. My people, I mean." His dwarf's resigned air left, and he ran his fingers along Legolas' tweed-covered arm. "I wish I could go with you."

Legolas nearly purred. He wished his dwarf could go with him as well. He ran his fingers up under Gimli's hair and rubbed along his neck. Gimli groaned and nuzzled Legolas like a cat. "Mmm, don't stop," Gimli said, and Legolas complied, massaging Gimli's neck, trailing his fingers along the line of his hair, digging his fingers along his scalp, scratching and petting. He loved Gimli's hair, thick yet soft. The red so vibrant and full of passion, like the dwarf himself. "Ah, that's good." Gimli leaned into Legolas. 

Legolas gazed tenderly down at Gimli, running his nose along the dwarf's scalp, inhaling, imprinting his feel, the noises he was making, the scent of dwarf and cinnamon from his soap and the distinct earthly scent of Gimli. Oh, how he would miss this. How he wanted to bottle him up so he could take tiny hits when he felt momentary despondent.

Legolas stiffened. What a brilliant idea!

Gimli pulled away, a curious tilt to his head. 

"Gimli, let's exchange clothing."

"Huh?"

"Give me a shirt you've worn, and I'll give you a shirt I've worn."

"You want my dirty clothes?"

Legolas stiffened. "No… well, yes." He drooped. "I will miss your arms, your smile, your laughter." He punctuated each item with a kiss to Gimli's lips. "But it would ease my heart to take something of yours with me. That has your scent."

Gimli caught onto the idea. "Oh, that sounds like a good plan." He wiggled his eyebrows and those mischievous dimples popped out. "I could roll around in your linen shirt naked. Rubbing my beard all over it while I pined away—"

"Gimli!" Legolas has lost his breath. He could see (very vividly) his dwarf doing just that and it caused certain stirrings low in his gut. 

Gimli leaned over and planted a kiss to Legolas' throat. "I'd carry it around with me. Wrap my pillow around it. And when I was really lonely, I'd rub it over—"

Legolas moaned as Gimli reached down, drawing his hand up to a noticeable bulge in Legolas' slacks. 

"—myself, your scent heavy in the air, and I would think of you. Your hands on me. Touching me," he cupped Legolas, and he couldn't stop the jerk to his hips. "I would say your name, always saying your name." Gimli began to rub him, and Legolas tried to keep his eyes open, but they kept fluttering closed, the image of Gimli laid out in bed, rubbing Legolas' shirt over his body as he pleasured himself going straight to his groin, easily shepherded by the bold touches Gimli delivered. "Legolas," Gimli moaned directly into his ear. "Oh, Legolas. Yes." Legolas groaned, unable to stopper the sound. "Touch me, Legolas. Stroke me." 

Someone knocked. Legolas' body jerked. Gimli yanked his hand away. Stiffly, he checked the clock. Office hours started ten minutes ago. "Crap."

~~~

Thorin watched as the truck pulled out of the parking lot and rumbled down the street. Gimli stood next to him. Both males had their hands in their jeans pockets, watching, saying no words.

Finally, Gimli said, "Two weeks."

Thorin pressed his lips together and nodded. "This might suck."

"Oh fuck, tell me about it!" Then Gimli shot a look at Thorin. "Sorry."

Thorin shrugged. "Let's go get a drink."

"Smaug's?"

"Where else."

The two dwarves ambled to Thorin's car. "Your dad set to rights?" Thorin asked.

Gimli shook his head. "No, hates elves. Wanted me to date _Dori_."

"Dori?" Thorin asked incredulously. "A little old, isn't he?"

"Exactly!" 

Thorin clicked the button and the car's locks opened. He climbed in and gripped the steering wheel. Two weeks.

Gimli pulled something out of his backpack and pressed his face into it. Thorin narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing?"

Gimli looked up, red in the face. "It's Legolas'," he confessed. "His shirt?"

"The elf's shirt?"

The road was empty as far as Thorin could see.

With a nod, Gimli said, "Smells like him."

"Ah fuck," he bumped the wheel lightly with his fist, "I should have thought of that." Then, resigned to his bad choices, he turned the key, revved the engine, and took off to Smaug's.

~~~

Gim: **Hows the trip?**

Leg: **Fine. I've got my books on the ecology of the Tower Hills area and those on Ovata Vora. Bilbo talks to me. My other companions keep to themselves.**

Dark expanses of nothing flashed by the open window he was sitting next to. Overhead the moon danced between clouds.

Gim: **Bombur likes kids Bifur likes carving**

Leg: **Bombur likes kids…?**

Gim: **HIS kids. Dont b sick**

Leg: **Bombur has children? I had no idea. Neither of them have offered me any conversation. But they watch me often enough.**

Gim: **Sorry :(**

Leg: **It is not any fault of yours, my dear Gimli. Perhaps I will use this gift you have given me and try to break their hard stone shell.**

Gim: **Hows Bilbo**

Leg: **Oh he is fine. He misses Thorin. I think he's eaten his tenth Clif bar for the day.**

Gim: **10?**

Leg: **I know!**

Legolas sipped his cola and looked around at his companions. The truck rocked softly as it charged down the highway. Bifur was going over some papers and Bombur was frying up some sausages in the little kitchen. Bilbo was reading a book and folding the wrapper for his Clif bar and stuffing it in a bag near his feet.

Gim: **What r u wearing**

Legolas blinked at the screen of his phone. He tapped his finger against the hard plastic. Was Gimli phone sex texting him? Or, was he just curious. About Legolas' clothing. 

Maybe he should ask Bilbo. (Bilbo was brushing the hair on his feet with a special foot brush.) Maybe not.

What would Gimli like to hear? What was sexy? Did he say nothing? No, that was boring and left nothing to be teased with. Did he pick leather and lace? Did he pick a collar, or tiger print, or a fake beard?

"Bilbo," Legolas said, leaning over the aisle to talk to his friend. "I'm going to bed."

Bilbo looked over at him, a slightly vacant look in his eyes. "All right, I'll probably be there soon."

"Oh, no worries, take your time." Legolas stood and walked with the rocking motion of the moving truck. He wondered when Beorn, their driver hired by Thorin's Company, would stop so he too could sleep. 

The bunk beds were open to the trailer with some curtains that could be drawn for privacy. He pulled the curtain and in the small space provided, he took off his gray tweed jacket and hung it up on a hanger hooked onto his bed. His fingers flew over the buttons on his shirt and slipped that from his shoulders and hung that up as well. Then he pulled off his khaki trousers and folded them to set them in his bag. Then he pulled on his blue plaid, linen pajamas. He glanced down at himself. This wouldn't do.

He climbed up to the top bunk and settled down in his sleeping bag. Gimli's shirt was pooled there on his pillow. Then he picked up his phone and read his screen again.

Gim: **Hello?**  
Gim: **Legolas?**  
Gim: **Listen, never mind about that**  
Gim: **U still there**

Leg: **I’m here.**

And then quickly, before he could stop himself…

Leg: **I’m wearing starlight and the western breeze. I'm wearing skin bare of your kisses, pining and longing for your touch.**

Gim: **R u naked?!?!**

Legolas blushed, though no one was there to see his embarrassment.

Gim: **No tweed ;)**

Leg: **Not now. Do you wish I were?**

Gim: **I like tweed**

Legolas smiled at the screen.

Gim: **Like 2 think bout peeling it off yer body and leaving u bare**

Oh my.

Gim: **Tweed look great piled on floor by bed.**

Legolas giggled and slowly reached down to touch himself. Gently, more in a friendly fashion than anything heated. He closed his eyes a moment, thinking of his dwarf. Then continued with his next text.

Leg: **We could empty my wardrobe on the floor and made a nest of my tweed, lay in it for days.**

Gim: **Licking eachother ;)**

Legolas squeezed his eyes shut, then typed:

Leg: **Licking?**

Gim: **I have tongue skillz :P**

Boldness and excitement flushed through his system.

Leg: **Where would you apply these skills?**

He waited. And waited. Then he got worried, until the next text arrived.

Gim: **First: neck. Id kiss u all over. Trail tongue along the pointed tip of yer ear. Yer ears are so fing sexy.**

Oh! Legolas didn't know Gimli thought that. His ears!

Gim: **Then: trail tongue down chest. Nibbling yer nipples, one then other.**

Inhaling Gimli's scent from his shirt, Legolas let himself trail his own hand down his throat and under the neck of his (now) open nightshirt to where his nipples had already gone hard. He imagined Gimli right now, lying next to him, his hair ghosting his skin as he kissed and laved Legolas' body. He ground out a heavy sigh.

Gim: **Wouldnt stop till reached yer cock**

Did he just type cock! Legolas' hand continued its own caresses.

**press my tongue against u and run up yer length**

There was a long pause and Legolas moaned at the loss of the next line. He decided to prod his dwarf on.

Leg: **And? Would you leave me wanting and begging for it?**

Gim: **Never. Never leave u**

Something tight clenched in Legolas' chest.

Gim: **Id worship u til stars fell**

Suddenly, Legolas felt really, really lonely.

Leg: **I miss you.**

And a near instant reply: Gim: **I miss u**

Leg: **It's only a couple weeks.**

Gim: **Ya. Doesnt help tho**

No, it didn't. It actually made it worse. It was a _couple_ of weeks.

Out beyond his veil of curtain, Bilbo began getting ready for bed, doing his own undressing and redressing and climbing into the bottom bunk.

"You asleep?" he whispered.

"No. I'm texting Gimli."

"Sexting?"

Legolas frowned into the dark cocoon of his bunk. "A little," he admitted. Because that was exactly where it'd started, but not where it had ended.

"I can't believe we'll be gone for two weeks." Bilbo sounded as forlorn as Legolas felt.

"It's a long time."

Bilbo laughed quietly. "It's really not, but it feels like an Age."

It did.

Leg: **When I get back. I… I no longer want to wait.**

Gim: **Really? U sure?**

Legolas grinned, imaging how eager Gimli was right now, how excited he would be at Legolas' own need.

Leg: **Yes. I love you. I want to be with you.**

He'd told himself he would wait. Give them a year, because what was a year to an elf. To get to know each other. Make sure it was right. Not rush things. Make sure Gimli was sure. But he couldn't deny the strength of his heart on this (or the strength of his desire.) 

Leg: **Forever. I will be with you forever.**

Would such a confession frighten the dwarf, brought up in this modern age?

Gim: **Forever.**

But he knew Gimli could not give him forever. But together, they would have a few centuries, and those would be full and ripe.

~~~

Two days and they'd just reached the Harlindon Mountains. Legolas' phone was charging; he'd let it die last night cuddling it close to his pillow next to Gimli's shirt. Bilbo groaned from his seat, holding a bucket close to his face. Today the Clif bars weren't lasting very long. Beorn, their driver, took the narrow two-lane mountain highway at sedate speeds because of 'the little bunny's tender tummy', but it still rocked the large trailer-tuck at every sharp curve.

They'd taken the North-South freeway until the small town of Tharbaed (famous for its oak sap pancakes), and then headed northwest through Eriador until they hit the Harlindon Mountain roads, one of the few southern passages to get to Tower Hill.

They would take another day just to get to the end of the mountains and Legolas worried for the poor hobbit. Bilbo had not confessed to anyone that he got car sick, and until they got off the freeway, it hadn't become evident. But then it had, in spades. (Or buckets.)

Legolas watched the beautiful scenery pass by outside the trailer's window. It had been modified to be fairly comfortable for the five of them: Legolas, Bilbo, Beorn (the hairy, large driver), Bombur and Bifur. There were bunk beds (more than enough), a shower, a sitting area, and a small kitchen. The rest of the trailer was for the plant. Pots and grow lights and refrigeration for other specimens. Plus some lab equipment (that Legolas didn't really pay attention to) so the scientists could work on the road if they chose to. The entire set-up must have cost a good amount, but apparently the King without a Mountain could afford such luxuries if it returned his people to their homeland.

The Lonely Mountain. Far away. Near enough of Legolas' own homeland of Greenwood, but leagues away from Gondor and his job. Would Gimli return to the Lonely Mountain, Erebor, once the Arkenstone Virus no longer was a threat? 

Legolas grabbed Gimli's shirt and pressed his face into it, the scent faint after only a few days. Still, it soothed him. 

The road curved sharply. The truck slowed and rounded the corner. On the other side of the trailer, cloistered away from anyone with a sense of smell, Bilbo retched into his bucket.

~~~

Nori (a dwarf with an elaborately ridiculous hairstyle that probably was cool in dwarven circles) met them in the town of Thistle in the shadow of some ruins perched high on the Tower Hills. Legolas had been through this area a few centuries earlier, before Thistle had even been a hamlet, let alone a single homestead. Those old towers heralded from an even earlier age, where magic artifacts could still be found in the world and evil held power over the races of Middle-earth.

(Now, they simply had to deal with politicians, corporations, insurance companies, and diseases.)

"Glad you guys finally showed," Nori said, clapping his fellow dwarves on the back and shaking Bilbo's hand (though the poor Hobbit seemed ready to fall over and kiss the solid ground beneath his feet). He just squinted at Legolas. (A squint that said, I do not trust you elf, nor your people, because someone of your race many years ago abandoned us in our cause, and this grudge I hold, I hold tightly; it keeps me warm at night when I'm alone and tired and without my heritage because it's all your fault.) "You the plant expert?" 

"That I am, Master Dwarf." Legolas dipped his chin in acknowledgment. "What have you found out so far?"

"Two locals here," he looked over at Bilbo, "One a Man, one a hobbit. Says they know from where the plant was taken and gave me directions."

Bilbo and Legolas perked up and exchanged a look. "Well great, let's go!"

Nori shook his head. "Not so easy. The valley it came from, it's guarded by trolls."

"Trolls!" Bilbo practically jumped out of his trousers.

Legolas threw off their concern. "No problem. We'll just explore the area during the day." 

"Only way to get to the valley is through their cave."

"What? Are you serious?" Bilbo threw his arms into the air. "Next you'll tell us we need a virgin and a golden cow to offer in exchange for passage."

Legolas looked away. 

Nori made a disgruntled noise. "I haven't negotiated with them to establish terms of passage." He scanned the gathering, eyes lingering on Legolas (which only made him blush). "I thought I would wait to discuss the matter with everyone. Come, I'll show you to the rooms I've rented. Do you two mind sharing?" he asked Legolas and Bilbo, who agreed to share a room.

The inn was one of those dark wood and white wood mountain chateaus that had become popular in the last few centuries. Everything was wood and rustic. Legolas liked it. The group climbed the stairs to the second floor, their footsteps echoing against the wooden steps. Before they reached the floor, Nori grabbed Legolas' arm, the grip firm and unfriendly.

"So, you're the one. The one Gloin told me about."

"Perhaps," Legolas said, then elegantly twisted his arm loose from the dwarf's grip. The dwarf's eyes widened. "Depends on what Master Gloin has said."

"What do you want with Gimli?" Nori sneered. "Really?"

Legolas couldn't stop the small smile that tugged at his lips at the thought of his Heart. "I love him," he said simply and continued up the stairs, catching up to Bilbo. Together they entered room 212 and closed the door. Legolas leaned against the wall and slowly slid down until he landed on the ground.

"I miss him." (He knew he was being pathetic, but at least he his patheticness had companionship.)

Bilbo took in a deep breath, let it out, and sat next to Legolas. "Me too."

~~~

Beep Beep Beep.

Gimli groaned, rolled over. 

Beep Beep Beep.

He tried to snuggle back into his dream of Legolas' lips kissing along his neck. Damn that elf was good with his lips. His dirty post-adolescent mind imagined Legolas' lips elsewhere. It wasn't his fault, really, he was young! His mind did these things of their own accord.

Beep Beep Beep.

He grabbed his pillow and threw it at Toldur. "Get your damned alarm, asshole."

Toldur finally woke and hit the snooze. 

"Don't snooze, just get the fuck up. Damn. That's what you get for taking a 7 a.m. class."

Toldur told him off, but turned the alarm off to climb out of bed. Gimli listened as his roommate gathered his things and left the room to take a shower. 

Sighing, Gimli finally reached down, under the band of his boxers, and took hold of himself. Mahal, that was nice. Even though he knew the hand was his own, large and blunt fingered, he still imagined long elegant fingers stroking him. (Like that first night, in this very dorm. On this very bed!) Lips upon his neck. Words fueled by just a breath. "Gimli," those words would say. "You're mine. Mine. Always."

Gimli pressed his head into his mattress and arched his back. His hand sped up. The heat from his dream mixed with the heat from his imagination. He rolled his head, inhaled the last traces of Legolas' scent from his shirt. Faster, he slid over himself, squeezing at the base, then sliding up to the head again. He groaned out Legolas' name, deep and low, quiet though he had the room to himself. The pressure built in his balls and when he met his release he felt hollow and lonely.

Damn.

His breath slowed as he gently caressed himself. A knock tapped against his door. Gimli closed his eyes, hoping the knocker would go away. It didn't come again, but something slid underneath the door. Reluctantly, Gimli got to his feet and found a towel to wipe himself off. The air smelled slightly of his spunk. He opened a window.

Finally he picked up the paper on the ground. It was a card, actually, wax sealed with a stamp he didn't recognize. Nothing dwarvish. Looked possibly elvish. He broke the seal and pulled out a heavy paper-board invitation.

Gimli, Son of Gloin

Thranduil, President of Gondor University  
Requests your presence today at 12:30 at Undine Café

Please confirm your availability

A palsy suddenly overtook Gimli's hands, and he dropped the invitation to his desk. A phone number waited there. His One's father wanted to have lunch. Lunch with Thranduil.

Oh fun fun.

He glanced down at the soiled towel he'd just used to clean himself and felt vaguely guilty.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Still no service. Legolas tucked his phone away and ungraciously cursed this small town and lack of cell towers. For goodness' sake, it was called Tower Hill. Though a new invention, along with automobiles, and electricity, Legolas had certainly taken to the convenience of the technology in his everyday life. He knew Gimli was fine, but he just wanted to hear his deep bass voice, his chuckle, the warmth whenever he said Legolas' name.

He pouted and then dressed for the day.

They were planning on hiking up to the Troll cave and scout out the area. Legolas laced up his hiking boots and pulled on his tweed jacket, wiggled his shoulders a little to adjust the draping of the material, and headed downstairs to meet the others for breakfast.

Bilbo was already there, munching away. The dwarves were eating at a more sedate pace. Beorn wasn't there. Bilbo brightened when he saw Legolas. "Do you have any reception?"

Legolas shook his head and began scooping food onto a plate from the many platters covering the table. Bilbo's bright excitement dimmed. Eggs and fried vegetables and some strawberries. He skipped the sausages.

"So, Bombur, do you have any children?" Legolas asked after his first bite of lukewarm eggs.

Bombur's eyes widened, then he nodded while sucking down some coffee. "Yes. Three. Two boys and one girl." He fished a wallet from his back pocket, which he proceeded to open to a few snapshots of his family. It'd been many years since Legolas had seen an actual family photo, instead of a digital shot on someone's phone.

"Oh, they are lovely. The boys are in fencing?"

Bombur beamed. "Axe combat. Second and third in their class for all of Gondor. I'm so proud."

"As well you should be. Isn't Gondor District some tight competition?" 

"It certainly is. How do you know? Don't look like an axe man yerself."

Legolas waved his fork through the air, dismissing that line of thought quickly. "Bow. I go to many martial competitions and often bow, sword and axe compete at the same time."

Bombur chuckled and flipped his wallet closed. "We've probably been at them at the same time then."

"Most certainly," Legolas said. "And how about your daughter?"

"Didn't take to the weapons, but she's quite good at the forge. You should see some of the iron candlesticks she has on sale on Utsy. Bought her first laptop on her own." Bombur puffed up his already ample chest. 

"Utsy's a great site." Legolas scanned to Bifur. "Lots of quality hand-made crafts there. I bought some hand carved photo frames out of teak and applewood."

Bifur jerked his head in a kind of approval (if Legolas was to judge) and said something rapidly in the dwarven language. 

"Oh, Bifur here sells some things there, too. Carvings. Mainly toys, like little trains and sometimes dragons and warriors. His Uruk-hai line is one of his best sellers. These orc warriors in various stages of bodily mutation."

Legolas went green. "Bodily mutation?"

Bifur nodded and rattled something else off. Then he pulled out his phone and flipped through some pictures of pale wood carvings of orcs with missing limbs or metal plates nailed to their heads or bad teeth. Gruesome.

"Wow, that is amazing skill." Legolas nodded, eyes open to show his appreciation. He handed the phone back and felt the need to rub his hand against his jeans. 

After eating, Legolas returned to the truck to grab his heirloom bow and a quiver of arrows. He noticed Bombur and Bifur had also grabbed weapons: a mattock for Bombur and a wicked looking spear for Bifur. 

Bilbo stared at them, eyes darting from one weapon to the next. "Are we going troll slaying, because I just have to say, I left my foil at home."

"Just in case," Bombur said as he walked back to the rental SUV Nori had warming up. Nori also had a blade at hand, a two-handed sword that Legolas didn't recognize. Maybe it was some fancy stylized sword from some action movie.

"Why am I the only one unarmed!" Bilbo asked exasperated.

"Because you didn't bring a weapon?" Nori said.

"Well, we are civilized, aren't we? Why not just talk to the Trolls." He pulled out his wallet and flashed a number of very large bills. (Was teaching dance that lucrative?) "Bribe them or something. Maybe we could bring them a goat or sheep as offering."

Legolas thought that sounded like a splendid plan. "Let's go find a goat."

After driving around the countryside, they did find a farmer who sold them a goat he said was "nearing its tenure anyway." The old nanny just looked at Legolas with mournful brown eyes. He patted the animal on the head and secretly hoped the Trolls didn't like goat.

Boern didn't much like this plan. "Perhaps we can give the trolls honey coated ricecakes instead. I find them lovely." He possessively cuddled the goat in the back of the SUV (He barely fit, even folded over twice as he was).

Nori drove them up a rough and bumpy road, bottoming out the vehicle more than once, until they could drive no farther. They all piled out of the SUV (Bilbo nearly dropping to the dirt and kissing it) and began the steep hike up to the cave. Beorn carried the goat lovingly in his arms, marching ahead on his long legs. Nori went after, then Bilbo, trotting steadily on his large feet. Bombur huffed along, then Bifur went next and Legolas took up the back, eyes watching, scanning the grassy hillside for any threat. 

All he saw were marmots and ground squirrels. The goat bleated in Beorn's arms.

An hour passed and the sun peaked the sky and then began its downward descent. Not good. Legolas' somewhat dormant battle sense began to awaken, urging them to hurry. By the quickening pace, he bet his companions felt the same. Finally they reached the mouth of the cave. 

Beorn set the goat down. "There you go Sula." He patted the goat. It baaed. Legolas flinched. They would never offer that goat to the trolls now. But if he were honest with himself, he felt better for it.

"Now what," Bombur asked, peering into the dark entrance.

"Let's not be rude, let's announce ourselves," and before anyone could stop him, Bilbo stepped within the boundary of the darkness. "Hello!" he called out. "Mr. Troll. We'd like a word, if you please."

It didn't take much time before they head, "Who comes to our cave? Do you not know the time? We are sleeping."

"Terribly sorry," Bilbo said. "But we would like to pass through your cave to get to the valley beyond. If it would be no trouble."

"Trouble? Of course it would be trouble. You want to traipse through our home, in the dead of day, and expect there to be no trouble. You don't even come by at proper tea time."

Legolas peered into the dark and saw a large shadow looming inside. 

Bilbo spoke to the shadow. "Oh! Well, that was certainly rude of us. Please, do forgive our poor timing. But you see, we need the daylight to see where we are going in the valley. We would kindly offer payment for passage through your cave. We've money, and," Bilbo glanced over at Sula, "and, ah, well, that's about it. But if you tell us the payment you desire, perhaps we can deliver something once we return to the town."

The shadow shifted. "There are quite a few of you. Do I smell goat?"

"Yes, well, there is a goat," Bilbo explained, "a very dear goat that we love deeply."

"Oh, so, not lunch?"

Boern growled and pulled the goat to his side. 

"Ah, I'm afraid not. Though, perhaps we could have some steaks sent up to you."

"Well, I have no need for money, and you've nothing else to offer me now, why should I let you through?"

Bifur muttered something in his secret dwarven language (maybe Gimli would teach him!) and Bombur nodded.

"What is it you would want?" Bombur asked. "As our Halfling said, we could organize another trip and bring you proper payment."

The giant shadow settled down before Bilbo, still well within the safety of the cave, and seemed to rest his elbows on his legs. "Well, I do like to eat sweet things."

The dwarves rattled off between each other. Beorn muttered about cake. Bilbo said, "Do you enjoy Clif bars?" He took off his pack and pulled out a small wrapped granola bar and tossed it to the troll. There was some package destruction and the troll tossed something in its mouth. 

"Hmm, that's not bad."

"I have more. Good to have snacks on a trip. I'll give you all my bars if you let us enter the valley and return. Unmolested!"

"Unmolested! Why would you say such a thing, as if I would want relations with dwarves and hobbits. The elf though," the troll's voice lowered and almost buzzed with a kind of purr, "he could stay."

"Certainly not!" Legolas nearly squeaked. "I'm spoken for." (The idea losing his virginity to a troll sent Legolas' stomach plummeting to the rocky ground.)

"Ah, well." He took another bar and began munching on it. "Go on with you, then. No molesting. Just…don't disturb my brothers. They're sleeping."

Bilbo sacrificed his Clif bar hoard and the gathering entered the dark cave mouth, guided by the helpful troll. 

~~~

Gimli pulled at his tie. Really, it was too constrictive; he'd gotten it too tight. His jacket was nicely tailored, at least. He checked his phone: 12:20. Ten minutes early was good. He walked into the café, a small intimate restaurant near the President's Office, and saw that a table in the back had a little paper placecard on it.

"Hello," he said to the hostess. "I'm here to meet Thranduil."

The hostess looked him up and down, the corner of one lip lifting in a ghost of a sneer. "This way, please." She grabbed a menu and led him back to the reserved table. He took his jacket off and hung it from a nearby rack and sat. The waitress brought him a glass of water. Gimli downed it in three gulps. His leg began bouncing as he looked over the lunch items. A mix of local and northern affair. They even had dwarven carrot stew. His mother made a wonderful carrot stew.

The waitress refilled his glass. Gimli checked his phone again. 12:27.

Relax, Gimli, he told himself. He's your future father-in-law, don't make him think you’re a nervous mess. He already approved of you. He already …

"Good afternoon, Gimli, son of Gloin."

Gimli jerked, backhanding the glass of water. Water rushed over the tabletop, soaking the linen cloth and napkins and began dribbling to the ground. He jumped to his feet, patting down the pool with his napkin as the tablecloth soaked it up. Hopeless.

He dropped the napkin to the ruined table and held out his hand. "Hello, Thranduil. Lovely day."

Thranduil looked down at the table, then at Gimli's hand, then at Gimli. Face unreadable. "It is a lovely day. I wanted to thank you," the waitress ran up and stripped the table, "for meeting me for lunch today." He turned ever so slightly to the waitress, to still her actions. She waited for whatever new orders she would receive. It amazed Gimli how poised the ancient elf was. How just a single lifting of his chin drew people to attend to his needs. "Another table, please."

"Of course, sir." She pointed to one near the window. "Will that one do?"

"Yes."

Gimli stuffed his hands into his pockets and tried not to wilt under his failings.

Thranduil waited until Gimli sat at the new table, then took his own chair. The chair looked small under the stern, elegant elf. He wore a set of flowing robes that no body but an ancient elf could get away with. His hair, nearly butt length, shimmered with every movement, catching the overhead lighting like it's been coated with egg whites. He was glorious. But, he was cold. So unlike Legolas. Was that what a few millennia did to one? Turned them into stone? And they said dwarves were made of the very rock of the earth.

"Sorry about that," Gimli finally said. 

"It is nothing but spilled water. In the vast realm of world-shattering errors, this one does not even measure up. Do not let it cause you worry." Thranduil floated one hand through the air, dismissing the spilled water, the great drought of '82, and the Desolation of Mordor. All trivial. All of no concern.

"So," Thranduil began, "you are an engineering student?"

Gimli nodded, feeling his palms sweat like a leaky valve. "Yes. Civil." What did he say now? "Professor Azaghal is my advisor."

Thranduil's face was still, smooth and emotionless. "I know of him, but I admit that his work is not that well known to me. What is it you wish to accomplish in your life, Gimli?"

Gimli's mouth went dry. How did they jump from his major to life goals? He was seventy-eight years old, with a life ahead that could toss him any number of detours.

"I'd like to … " Gimli really wished he had something to drink. "Well, honestly, sir, I want to travel some, go caving all over the world. Live a good life with friends and family. To me, a job is a job. A way to pay my mortgage. I would like to work for an ethical company that isn't run by money-grubbing jackasses." (Oh, maybe he shouldn't have said jackasses to his future father-in-law ancient elf.) He cleared his throat. "But for a company that cares about sustainable development and minimal disturbance. I want to bridge into architecture. Design and construct fine buildings that will last an Age, that our children's children will look upon and think 'Wow, how wonderful these works'. We've so many great examples from our ancestors, Man, dwarf and elf, and I think we can expand upon that." He stopped talking and with a slightly shaky hand, took a sip. He set the glass down carefully and set his hands in his lap. He then looked up at the elf and waited.

Thranduil studied him. Gimli breathed. The waitress came and took their orders. Gimli didn't order any meat.

"So, how does Legolas fit into this rather scattered plan of yours?"

Gimli barked out a laugh. "How doesn't he fit? It doesn't matter where I am or what I'm doing, Legolas will fit."

"You seem certain."

Gimli though of Legolas, of the challenges and joys that waited for them, and felt strength steel his nerves. He leaned forward and held the President's gaze without a flicker or a flinch. "I am." Those cold blue eyes didn't wave. "Together, no matter what it is, we'll figure it all out together." 

Gimli leaned back in his chair and looked away. He couldn't hold that gaze any longer. His blood pounded through his temples, and he struggled to keep his breathing steady. He rolled his shoulders back, pulling on (and probably failing) an air of relaxed poise. "So, Thranduil, what do you enjoy doing in your free time?"

Thranduil's head lilted slightly to the side, and (if Gimli wasn't mistaken) his lips twitched just the slightest. "I enjoy my gardens. And wine."

"Are you also an archer, like Legolas?"

"I am proficient with the bow, yes. However, I've always taken more with the sword."

Gimli's heart still pounded. He couldn't believe it. They were talking. Having a regular conversation like normal people. He wanted to cheer, to lift his hands up and whoop his success. Achievement unlocked!

Over their meal, their understanding and knowledge of each other deepened. Thranduil had been a part of many wars in the past and was no longer eager for such conflict. He had two other sons, older than Legolas, that had remained in the northeast to look over Greenwood. He loved mangoes, raising riding elk, and his people. 

"And will you return to your mountain, if the virus is eradicated?"

Gimli had seen those who had fallen to the gollum mutation. Bifur and Bumbur had one captured in a cage in their lab. It was sad. If there was any chance of him catching that virus, would he go anywhere near the mountain? But what if they did cure it. A vaccination and an antivirus. Would he go then? To the place of his ancestors, that he'd never seen before.

"If it is safe, I would like to go. To see the glories of the Hall of Kings and the great gold mills, the ladles brimming with molten metal, shimmering in firelight. But I do not want to become a monster, a gollum. It depends on the success of the Company. But yes, I would like to go and see the splendors. I would like to see it with Legolas at my side."

"So you take my son away from me," the elf king said in barely a whisper.

In those words, Gimli heard the sorrow. But he wouldn't buy it, wouldn't let it sway him. "For only a few centuries, Thranduil. And then he will be yours again."

~~~

The march through the dark cave, lit by LED flashlights, was dull and longer than expected. It took nearly a half an hour to weave through the lava tubes and escape to the light again, and once they did, the old goat wiggled and squirmed and jumped from Beorn's grasp and began frolicking in the meadow beyond.

And what a meadow. It seemed early summer, butterflies fluttered from blossom to blossom. The grass was thick and dipped in a small breeze. Bilbo laughed and jumped out into the grass, running the stems through his spread toes. The dwarves looked up and around at the towering wall of stone cradling this valley.

"Looks like the caldera of a dead volcano," Bilbo said. He leaned over and picked a yellow flower. He took it up to his nose and sniffed, then tucked the flower into his hair behind is overly large ear. "The soil must be rich."

Legolas agreed. "Well, shall we fan out and begin our search? Ovata Vora likes somewhat moist soil, so look to any ponds or creek beds. And mildly acidic soils." He scanned the valley for any evergreens, their decaying needles providing an acid base, but couldn't find any.

They split up into three groups. Beorn and Bombur. Bifur and Bilo. Legolas and Nori.

Nori was a silent partner in their search. He'd examined photos of the plant and asked a few questions concerning its color tone, but kept to himself. They stayed easily within shouting distance, even if Legolas was not always visually aware of where the dwarf was. Legolas climbed along the edge of the caldera, skirting boulders and sometimes jumping upon them to give him a better view. He watched this new dwarf ferret around in high bushes, which was good. He scanned the rest of the valley in the slowly fading light and saw Bombur out in the center with Beorn, but couldn't spot Bifur or Bilbo. Probably in some hollow.

Legolas kept looking up along the border of the stone cliff, seeking out the ashy gray color of Ovata Vora, but perhaps it was under taller salal and orange-berry bush. He hopped down from his boulder and continued searching when he heard "I found it!" piercing the quiet early evening air.

Nori and Legolas popped up from their own scrounging and Bilbo's voice, along with a rougher mouthful of Khuzdul, rallied the other foragers. 

Legolas turned to Nori, grin wide. The dower dwarf smiled in response and they began sprinting towards Bilbo and Bifur.

They came upon Bilbo first, who was running his hands through his curls, joyous laughter bubbling from him. Even Bifur was laughing, his deeper dwarven tones running below the hobbit's higher ones. All around the two was a field of Ovata Vora, growing amidst stunted juniper and pine. The spot was in a low depression, not visible from the troll entrance.

Bilbo held his arms out wide, gesturing towards the hollow. "Would you look at this? I think we've hit the jackpot."

Though the light was fading, Legolas and the scientists did a quick survey of how many acres the plants covered (about two) and how many plants were in an acre (about five hundred).

"This plant was thought to be extinct," Legolas said with some amount of awe. "And we've found it. A viable, self-sustaining population. It's amazing." His heart thudded in his chest, delighted at the find. And the _resurrection_ of something from the older Ages come back to this one. He patted Bilbo on the back.

"We've got it. And then we can synthesize the anti-viral compound from the plant and hopefully find a vaccine." Bombur rocked back on his heels, his thumbs wrapped around his suspenders.

"Well, I wasn't expecting us to stay the night out there." Nori looked back toward the direction of the troll cave. A fire highlighted the cave mouth and Legolas guessed the other trolls were now awake.

"Let's stay out here. Build a little fire and finish our job in the morning," Nori said, voice too casual not to be feigned. 

Legolas studied the dwarf and nodded. "I shall keep watch. I've little use for sleep. You get your rest."

Beorn stood by Legolas' side. "I shall watch with you. My skin crawls, and I don't want to be caught unprepared." He gazed in the distance toward the trolls' cave.

The dwarves shared a look, and Bilbo looked somewhat confused. "Wait," Bilbo said, "are you suggesting you think the trolls might attack us? I gave them all my bars!" Bilbo's stomach rumbled. "How could they turn on us?" He huffed and started working on making a fire, jamming sticks into a scattered pile. "Ridiculous. We had an agreement. A pact." He stuffed some leaves under the sticks . "Anyone got any matches?" Nori handed him a lighter. "Turning your back on a deal like that. It's just not done!" The leaves caught, casting off a cloud of smoke that made Bilbo cough. Then he went still and silent, his shoulders stiff. In the next instant he popped to his feet, face hardened with determination. "But if what you say is true, let's not waste any time sleeping. Get to work everyone. If they attack, we better have what we came for."

Legolas directed the harvesting. They removed the entire plant, roots and all, and carried them in plastic bags. They made sure to not disturb the neighboring plants, so the population could continue on. Each of them gathered five plants, tucked into backpacks, and by then the light was truly gone. Brushing his hands off on his trousers, Legolas gazed back at the troll cave.

"Why don't we hide somewhere until morning?" Bombur said. "Not give them any more temptation to attack us."

Bilbo nodded in agreement. Nori scowled. Beorn did his deep-throated ponderous groan. Bifur muttered something in the dwarven language. Legolas thought the plan splendid. Though he had his bow and the others their weapons, trolls were thick-skinned. He didn't fancy a fight in the dark.

"Splendid idea, Bombur. Let's find somewhere to hide."

And they did, but it didn't much help. With the moon low on the horizon, the goat bleated and then screamed. After that, they could do nothing to keep Beorn hidden. He tore his clothing off (quite the sight to be sure), and his form shifted and cracked. In less than a minute, a huge bear took his place. And then the bear-man charged off. 

"Oh," Bilbo said. 

"Unexpected," Legolas agreed.

"Crap," Nori grumbled and all left their hideout at a swift trot. "Let's make for the cave mouth. We must get some of these plants out of here. That is our priority."

Legolas stared at the dwarf. "I think our safety is priority, Master Dwarf. These plants are not going anywhere. We can try for another expedition if this one does not meet success." He had his bow out anyway, ready to defend this motley gathering he'd been tossed in with.

The great bear had not made his way to the cave, though, and Legolas was loath to leave him. The bellow of the beast tore through the valley. A troll's roar responded. Legolas' gut clenched.

"I must help him. You four continue on, with caution. I shall see that Beorn is well and able to escape with us." 

"But—" Bilbo's eyes were wide with terror, then he gritted his teeth, and nodded once, the terror shuttered behind determination. "We'll wait for you at the cave." And they split away from each other, Legolas deftly gliding over the uneven ground towards the terrible sounds of bear and troll.

The sight he came upon took Legolas back to Mirkwood, near Dul Guldar. The speed of the two creatures in battle forced Legolas to throw off his doddering professor attitude and take up the warrior once again. He drew an arrow, cocked it and let it fly. It pierced the troll's left eye. The troll screamed and the huge bear sliced through the green skin, tearing into pink flesh. Legolas knew this wouldn't slow the troll down, even as its skin began to knit closed. 

Stupid regenerating monsters.

"Beorn, make for the cave. We must leave this place!" he cried out. 

The bear took a moment to look at Legolas, then turned back to the troll and charged the troll as it scratched at its face in pain, trying to pull the arrow free. Legolas let loose two more arrows as the bear knocked the troll onto its ass. Then the bear rounded about and aimed for Legolas. Legolas leapt into the air, grabbed the bear's ruff and landed on his back, straddling the broad back like he would a horse.

Together they raced toward the cave. Legolas leaned forward and asked, "The goat?" 

Beorn, huffing at his speed, barked a gruff sound of denial. Legolas dipped his head and said, "I'm sorry, my friend."

But his compassion for the shape-changer's loss died away when they came upon their three dwarves and hobbit, hacking at troll legs with their ineffectual weapons. The troll was backlit by the cave mouth and looked huge. Gripping the bear's back with his thighs, Legolas pulled forth his bow and shot two consecutive arrows, one for each eye, its only weak spot.

"Gah, traitors!" The troll slammed his palms into his face, forcing the arrows deeper into its head and it went stiff and fell to the ground.

"Did that bliming idiot just stab himself in the brain?" Nori asked, weapon held tightly in his hands as his body heaved with every breath.

"We've one coming from behind us!" Legolas called. Plus the other, the one Bilbo had bribed with Clif bars. Where was that one?

It charged from the cave mouth. Bilbo cried out and said, "I gave you my food!" in such a shocked and insulted tone, the troll paused a moment.

Behind them, the injured troll screamed, "He took my eye, Wendle. My eye!"

Then the troll before them lost all of his hesitation and picked up a stout stick and aimed right for Bombur. 

Bilbo screeched and seemed to fly at the troll, but he was such a slight thing that he only got bowled aside as the thin log slammed into the rotund dwarf. Legolas aimed, took a breath, and released his arrow. It zipped through the air and took the troll's eye.

There was screaming and yelling, and it stole Legolas' reason for a moment as other battles settled in the forefront of his mind. "Beorn, can you gather Bombur?" he asked, jumping off the bear's back. The bear turned into a man, (a naked man, but let's not focus on that) and lifted Bombur, whose scream tore at something deep inside Legolas' current stage of cold warrior. Legolas turned away from the gruesome scene and hoisted Bilbo up in his arms.

The little hobbit, so delicate and small, groaned, but didn't come aware. Perhaps that was best. With Bifur and Nori watching their retreat, Legolas followed Boern, leading the retreating expedition through the troll cave.

~~~

Later that morning Thorin received a delayed text:

Bifur: **Got plant. Trolls. Bombur and Bilbo hurt. Going to hosp at Tharbald.**

Thorin woke the house up with, "Get up. We're going to Tharbald. Now!"


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Thorin, Kili and Fili drove in shifts for two days. Thorin didn't speak much, gripping the wheel like he could speed up his car if he held on tighter. Kili was texting madly with who knows who and would report updates to Thorin and Fili as he received them.

"Bombur's in emergency surgery. Something inside got ruptured. Bilbo has a broken arm and rib, but should be fine."

Thorin relaxed slightly, still, he was responsible for this excursion and Bombur's injury was his fault.

"They have 25 plants in the truck. Beorn and Bifur are returning in that. Nori is remaining at the hospital with Bombur, Bilbo and Legolas." More texting. "Legolas was able to set Bilbo's arm, apparently. And kicked some butt with his archery. Damn. I need to get him to show me some tricks."

"Gimli's tweed professor?" Fili asked, his hair pulled back in a low ponytail. "Kicked butt?"

"I know!" Kili said.

"He is an elf, an immortal," Thorin said. "He has lived through the many wars of Middle-earth, and I bet he would be honored if you asked, Kili."

That elf had helped his people. Helped his _Bilbo_. He would hold no grudges anymore. He would welcome him into the Company.

~~~

They arrived late that night with only one speeding ticket earned. (Kili talked them out of a second ticket by flirting with the human female cop.) Thorin and his nephews charged into the waiting room on the second floor and saw Nori and Legolas planted in uncomfortable plastic-molded chairs in mustard yellow. Nori leaned against the elf's side, snoring slightly. Legolas, upon seeing their arrival, gently shook the dwarf awake.

"Thorin," Nori said gratefully as he vaulted himself from the chair, and the two dwarves touched foreheads.

"You are well?" Thorin asked. Fili and Kili hovered nearby.

Nori nodded. "The first troll was taken out quickly by Legolas piercing his eyes." Nori nodded at the elf, who stood quietly nearby. Thorin narrowed his eyes. Something about the elf had changed. His awkward gregariousness was gone. The bumbling professorial air dashed away. The elven glow was low and constrained. Here stood a comrade in arms. A warrior. Standing tall, still, no excess motions. He was pure elf, like his father. 

"Legolas, I want to thank you for helping." He bowed towards the elf.

The elf nodded, cold and stiff. "It was my duty and my pleasure to help my friends, Thorin. Bilbo will be here shortly. He's just finishing some paperwork, but he's been treated and released."

Thorin nodded once, his gratitude overwhelming to the point he could do nothing but stand there and look at the elf. 

"Thorin?" came from his left.

Instantly, Thorin was by Bilbo's side. Touching him gently, the bandages covering his soft skin, the white cast. Bilbo offered a tired and relieved smile, and then his One nearly collapsed into his arms. 

"I've got you," Thorin said, cradling Bilbo, half carrying him to one of the waiting room chairs. 

"I'm so happy you're here. Bombur, he's still in surgery. And that troll… it just slammed him… and he was down…" Bilbo looked up at Thorin, his hazel eyes shimmering with the buildup of tears. "He was just… down. Motionless. I thought—"

"He'll be okay. Bombur's a tough dwarf. He'd made of stone, remember?" Thorin pulled Bilbo's head to his shoulder and ran his fingers through the smaller male's hair. He had an overwhelming and instinctual response to protect and comfort his One. He took in a deep breath, let it go. There was nothing to fight here. He had only to wait for news on Bombur. 

Bilbo's stomach rumbled. "Have you eaten?" Thorin asked. Bilbo shook his head.

Kili and Fili exchanged a look. "We'll take care of that." The lads ran off down the hallway.

Damn. Bombur. A good dwarf by any measure. But not to downplay his injury, it meant only Bifur in the labs, with Bilbo's help, certainly, but his One was no virologist. Thorin rubbed at his grainy eyes with his free right hand, his left still holding Bilbo. Legolas watched them from across the waiting room. The elf nodded, a gesture that said "Take your break, I am watching." So Thorin pushed back into the hard, unyielding chair, cradling his hobbit, and drifted into an uncomfortable rest.

~~~

A ruptured spleen, torn intestine, crushed lung and broken ribs. Bombur was not a pretty sight. But, he would live.

Bofur left Smaug's in Tauriel's hands (much to everyone's curious terror) and took the next bus to Tharbald to be by his brother's side. Thorin and the rest, minus Nori (he would remain with Bombur), gathered tightly into the rental and took a more sedate pace back to Gondor. 

During the drive there was little conversation, each trapped in their own thoughts.

~~~

Legolas strolled into his father's office. "Father, I have returned."

Thranduil turned his chair around to face Legolas. His right eye twitched. "Are you well, my son?"

Legolas stood still, curious as to what his father had pegged as unwell about him. He had no injury, in fact he hadn't been touched during the skirmish with the trolls. "What do you mean? Of course I am fine. There was the run-in with the trolls, as I explained over the phone, and the plant has been retrieved. I wanted to talk to you about setting aside an extra greenhouse focused solely on Ovata Vora." He handed his father a signed requisition sheet. 

Thranduil took it and set it down on his desk without even looking at it. Legolas stilled his scowl.

"Have you spoken to Gimli?"

Gimli. Something inside Legolas squirmed at the name, and the thought behind the name, of the red-haired dwarf and his deep laugh. "I sent him a text. Things are very busy with securing Ovata Vora."

This plant could change everything for the dwarves.

"He's missed you in your absence. Do not leave him hanging for word from you, that would be," Thanduil paused, his lips dipping into a frown, "unkind."

Legolas said nothing. It was not his father's business.

"Do not allow yourself to retreat into emptiness, my son. I see it in your eyes. That malady that falls upon many First Born, to remember our immortality and the mortality of those not of our kind. Yes, dwarves fall. Yes, your dwarf will fall. But do not waste the time you have with him." Thranduil stood from his chair, a fluid motion of beauty Legolas could never imitate. "I do not wish you to retreat. Your light shines, do not turn away from it."

Legolas allowed his eyes to narrow. Of course he hadn't retreated. But his father was wise in the ways of the ageless and so Legolas reviewed his mind and his emotions. He did feel cold. Removed. However, he had work to do, important work, not only for science but also for medicine. If he did not fail, he could help the dwarves, help _Gimli_ , but Ovata Vora must be preserved to do that.

But he did feel it, inside, that hard coldness, like starlight, spreading over his heart (shielding it from love and pain.)

"Father, I must secure Ovata Vora. I am not turning away from my Heart. I love him. I—" words didn't come. Words would never measure adequately. "I need a few days." He bowed to his father. "I shall take that greenhouse, shall I?"

Thranduil still didn't look at his request form, but only dipped his chin. "Fine." 

Legolas spun away and swept from the room.

~~~

"The heat transfer of ferrous metals—"

Gimli's phone beeped. His professor didn't stop his lecture, but the glare he shot let Gimli know they would have words. He scooped up his phone, stopping the noise, and hoped it was for word from Legolas. He knew that he'd returned to the Uni, (he'd gotten one lame text) but Legolas hadn't returned his calls. It drove him crazy. He'd already left three messages.

It was a text. From _Thranduil_?

Thran: **My son is not well. He is in Greenhouse 17 at the Agricultural Collage. Please see to him.**

Gimli went numb at the grammatically correct text. With shaking hands he stuffed his books into his bag. Loni sputtered next to him, "What's wrong? What's going on?" Gimli said something about someone being sick and ran from the classroom. 

The Ag College was across campus from the Engineering College, but Gimli was enduring when it came to running. He wasn't super fast, but he could charge up Campus Hill (who would build a campus on the hilliest portion of Gondor, really?) without slowing, and then he picked up speed on the downhill slope. He jogged across the footbridge over Stadium Way and down into the Ag Campus where cows and horses and rows of greenhouses populated the southeastern edge of Gondor University.

Legolas was not well. The single text he'd received from his One said he was uninjured. What did 'not well' mean? Was he actually injured, like Bombur or Bilbo, but the elfish bastard refused treatment? 

Greenhouse 34 was a small building with clean windows all around. The one next to it, across the street, was 21. He ran past that one and found 30. What the hell?

Gimli spun around and dashed up to a sandy haired Man in overalls carrying a pitchfork. "Hey," Gimli called out. The Man halted as Gimli panted out, "Where is Greenhouse 17?"

The Man, smelling slightly like cow manure, pointed down the hill to a greenhouse separated from the others near a small creek. "That's 17. Experimental Greenhouse."

Gimli offered his thanks and trotted down the sidewalk to Greenhouse 17, his bag bumping against his back.

A large red "Do Not Enter" sign hung from the door. Gimli didn't give a fuck, he yanked it open and stepped into the slightly cool, slightly moist air. Trough planters lined the greenhouse walls planted with an ashy green plant, each cluster of plants had a placard hanging above it with little symbols. Gimli didn't bother deciphering them, because his eyes sought out his One.

Legolas stood at the far end of the greenhouse, clipboard in hand, looking down the center pathway at Gimli. He did not smile. He did not greet him. Legolas frowned.

"Are you okay?" Gimli demanded.

"Could you not read the sign? The air is conditioned for this plant and mixing the outside atmosphere won't help it any."

Gimli felt stoned (not the high kind, but the petrified kind). He rolled his shoulders back, straightened his spine. His backpack shifted. "I'm glad to see you are well, Legolas." He began marching towards his One, who was acting oddly. Oddly enough his own father had called to Gimli for help. It was his duty to aid Legolas in any way.

"I am, thank you."

"Do you need any help with this plant?" He continued marching. Legolas hadn't moved, simply held onto his clipboard as Gimli approached.

"No, I can accomplish my task on my own. It will take some time to assure the plants survived the transplantation though." His eyes (cold and flat) tracked Gimli. His glow, often fluctuating and active, remained tight around the elf, nearly gone. He'd heard of elves that could dismiss their glow. Warriors. Those on the hunt.

"Then, I'll just sit here and keep you company." He glanced around, found no chair, so stood before his elf, crossed his arms, and waited.

Legolas blinked, looked away, looked back. "I appreciate you being here, but I could work faster without any distractions."

"Is speed important? Looks like you've got them all planted. Your little signs hung up. Now, it's just wait and see, right?"

Legolas' head tilted, like he was listening to something far off. "You do have a point."

Gimli nodded, arms still crossed, unsure what was going on. "Are you mad at me?" Oh Mahal, did he just say that? He sounded like a tween!

Legolas blinked. "What? No."

"Then, talk to me. Be happy to see me. Did you even miss me?" He flung his arms out to the side. With desperation he took up Legolas' wrists, the clipboard a shield separating them. "I missed you. I was worried! Especially after hearing about Bombur and Bilbo and you never contacted me."

"I texted you."

"Yeah, one text. 'I'm unharmed.' What the fuck! I’m unharmed!? I needed more than that." He hated how he sounded, but he wanted to throttle his elf. Shake him. Throw him to the ground and do things to him he hadn't really let himself face because they talked about _waiting_ (and then texted about _not_ waiting), but right now all he wanted was to make sure he was _alive_. "Before… you texted that you were ready, tired of waiting, wanted to _be_ with me. And then this." Gimli stopped, his chest was heaving. He gripped Legolas' thin arms with desperation. "Are you… are you trying to dump me?"

Something in Legolas' eyes cracked. They widened, looked a little panicked. The glow shifted. "No. No! Why would you think that?" Legolas dropped his pen and clipboard, the clattered to the floor, and with ease disengaged Gimli's fear-tight grip and wrapped his arms about his heaving sides. "No," Legolas whispered into the top of Gimli's head. "No, my Gimli. No. I love you. I need you. I'm just… a little lost. Too focused. I’m sorry for worrying you." He kissed Gimli's head. "I'm so sorry."

Gimli squeezed Legolas' middle, his forehead pressed to the other male's shoulder. "Don't pull away from me, Legolas. Do not push me away, or push me aside. Never, ever think I'm not a part of everything you do." He leaned back, looked deeply into Legolas' brilliant blue eyes. "You understand me?"

Legolas gasped, "Yes," and pressed his mouth to Gimli's.

Gimli didn't want to scare Legolas away, but he needed more than a kiss in the greenhouse. He grappled with Legolas' lab coat, yanking it over the taller male's shoulders. Legolas didn't stop him. He helped to shrug off the garment then yanked out Gimli's own shirt from the waist of his jeans. Fumbling, cursing himself for this frantic shake that settled in his hands, Gimli undid Legolas' belt, the leather shushing as he tore it through the metal buckle. His own belt was handled with more skill, though Gimli did notice his elf's hands shook a little. Was he anxious? Nervous?

Gimli leaned forward and stood on his toes as he kissed along Legolas' smooth neck, running his tongue across heated skin and then sucked. 

"Oh Gimli," Legolas moaned, his hands still at work, crawling up under Gimli's shirt, fingering the thatch of fur on his lower belly. Mahal—the feel of Legolas' hands on him. It burned. Scorched him. Drove him. 

Gimli continued to suck, leaving a trail of bruises, marking the gorgeous male as his, as taken. Making him Gimli's. He needed to brand him.

"Gimli, Gimli," Legolas purred over and over. "You are mine. I need to touch you." Gimli could feel the grasping of Legolas' fingers on his jeans' button, and then the zipper hissed open. Oh, Gimli anticipated. Gimli wanted. And when Legolas laid his hand against Gimli's hard erection he gasped and pressed forward into Legolas' thigh.

"Damn, we need a stool," he ground out between vice-tight teeth. 

Legolas laughed, a breathy thing that only spurred Gimli on. "I could overturn a bucket to give you a boost."

"Fine, do it!"

Legolas tore away a moment, his neck an island chain of marks, his trousers half undone and a telltale erection pressing outward, eager, ready. Gimli's own cock jutted out beyond the waistband of his boxers, the tip leaking. 

Legolas kicked over a bucket, liquid spread across the concrete floor. Gimli threw down his backpack (in a non-wet patch) and Gimli hopped onto the bucket. Now, he was too tall, but damn, this was better. Their erections nearly met. Gimli bent his knees, leaning into his elf and there…. There… together.

He grabbed both of them; Legolas' hand joined his.

"Oh, you feel so silky, so good in my hand. I want to feel you… move, damn it. I want to feel you." Gimli couldn't breathe. Didn't want to wait for breath, he just pumped his hips in time with Legolas. Legolas keened, a low noise, but steady, and though Gimli wasn't all that experienced (he'd had two lovers, one female, one male, both dwarf and neither all that fulfilling), he knew he had gone further than his One. The idea that Leglas was pure, untouched (though he couldn't be completely innocent, nobody three millennium worth of years old was innocent) drove a kind of primal need to claim him. 

Their hips matched with each thrust, and the slide of skin on skin, the tight pressure of their combined grips, soothed the need. Lips pressed against lips, Gimli swallowed down each of Legolas' groans, thrived on them. He jerked his hips sharply; Legolas stepped back to brace himself. He'd never seen Legolas this gone, this feral in his need. The elf's eyes were blown, the pupil nearly overshadowing the blue. The brightness of the elven glow shifted and pulsed. Legolas' skin was heated. His breathing shallow. He looked lost, almost, and Gimli snaked his free arm tighter around his elf. "I've got you," he said between kisses. "I've got you."

"Don't let go." 

"Never."

And Legolas twisted his wrist, brought the palm of his hand over the heads of their erections and the pressure was glorious. 

He couldn’t last much longer as they rutted against each other. He was ready to fall, dive over the edge and he prayed (silently) that Legolas was close, because Gimli couldn't last.

"Gimli." Just his name, but a benediction and Legolas jerked erratically, tumbling him over that cliff one step before Gimli and with a shout, Gimli followed.

Hot seed spread between them, coated their hands and bellies, soiled their clothing. He didn't care. His forehead was pressed hard against Legolas' (tomorrow there would probably be a tiny bruise, but on Legolas, nobody would notice that for the map of Hawaii on his neck). Air was evasive, then he caught a lungful in a gulp. Then another. He could hear Legolas saying something, muttering a fluid string of Sindarin, his name the only recognizable word in there.

"Le melin, Gimli. Ilyamenie lle. lle ier inauthnin. Amin. Amin."

Legolas collapsed, taking Gimli down with him. He landed on the slight elf with an _oof_ , but Legolas didn't seem to mind. He was laughing. A light, lovely sound. There they were, sprawled on wet concrete soiled with semen, pants down around their asses, and they were laughing. Quite the sight. Gimli chuckled, adding his deeper tones to those of his elf. He kissed Legolas' nose, his forehead, his lips. He propped himself up and gazed at Legolas. 

"Are you better now?" he asked, not even trying to hide his cheek.

"Much, Meleth-nin. Much."

~~~

Legolas' body shook. He had no idea, no concept on what being with his Heart's Song would be like. Sure, he'd dallied with other elven men, nothing truly beyond the level of shared enjoyment and play, and while he and Gimli, so young yet so strong, had done nothing more than what he'd done before, it was like nothing he'd ever experienced.

Not only the physical pleasure of it... but the way it touched him deep, touched his spirit. Filled the empty spaces in his heart. Fulfilled him.

But even that feeling, that mind-subsuming passion, was nothing like his contentment and completion now. Lying on a hard floor, Gimli's head upon his chest, running fingers through his thick hair. Oh Eru. Oh Yavanna. How his heart swelled. 

His father had never told him it would feel like this. 

"You're thinking too much," Gimli said from the vicinity of his chest. 

"I'm thinking of how good I feel. How good you feel resting on me."

Gimli grunted, then rolled so his chin was resting on his own hand, looking up at Legolas. Gimli looked good that way, sprawled over his body, his hair in disarray. 

"You're grinning."

"So are you."

So they were.

~~~

Eventually they crawled up off the hard ground, clothing soaked, but not all that bothered by it. Well, it was bothersome, but it was a pittance of a payment for the reason they got wet. Gimli scrubbed at his spoodge-stained shirt with a sock he tore off his foot and tried to make the damage not so noticeable. Achievement, not unlocked.

"So, this is the famous anti-viral plant that will cure the Arkenstone Virus and let the dwarves return to their ancestral mountain?" He ran his finger along the edge of one of the containers, afraid of what Legolas would do if he actually _touched_ a plant.

Legolas nodded. "Yes. I hope, anyway. I think the chances are good. Its recorded properties are astounding. And with the expertise of Bombur and Bifur, I'm sure they can pinpoint the specific chemical to combat the virus. I'm no microbiologist; I only know what I've gleaned from my years of modern study in botany."

"I'm sure that's but a pittance," Gimli mumbled good-naturedly.

Legolas shrugged. "Well, for the majority of my life there has been no concept of microscopes or DNA or viruses, let alone true knowledge of them. It's all very new."

Gimli went a little cold at that. Most of his life, especially the latter part constructed of the information age, was full of such knowledge at his fingertips. All it required was time to read and study. He reached out, twined his fingers with Legolas', wanting to hold onto his One, the other half of his heart that had wandered for thousands of years searching for him. The ache, the tired ache of it, he could only imagine, and it tore at his sorrow.

Legolas, (having lost most of his stiff elfyness and was more the professor again) gazed at Gimli, thoughtful. He squeezed Gimli's hand, then landed a light kiss upon his brow. "Do not let it be of concern, Gimli, gil-nin. We are elf and dwarf, yes, but our souls also recognize each other, and that is worth any bridge we must gap. Do you not agree?"

Gimli nodded, then said, "Yes." The way he felt just holding onto Legolas' hand was worth any trial they would face, not only racially, but by the sheer difference in their life experiences. He had to be patient with his elf, this he knew, but he needed to know more, to understand more of what he had gone through and what had happened to him on his expedition.

Legolas overturned his thoughts with, "Wait, aren't you supposed to be in lecture?"

Gimli dropped his gaze. "Yes, but I had to see you."

Legolas kissed him again. "I understand. But you should return, finish your day. I have a few things to complete here, and I would like to visit the lab to assure the plants there are housed correctly."

Gimli nodded, thinking of his wet knees and hip, his soiled shirt, and grimy sock, and how he was so not going to class without a change of clothes.

"And tonight," Legolas said, and the manor of his speech, hesitant almost, made Gimli looked up, "I would like if you would come to my home. And…" Gimli watched Legolas' Adam's apple bob, "stay with me?"

It was almost a plea.

Gimli's heart thumped, heavy and hard, like the hammer on an anvil. "Yes."

Legolas relaxed and Gimli hadn't really noticed just how tense he'd been. He squeezed the elf's hand again. "Lovely. I look forward to tonight. I should be home by seven, but please, arrive whenever it is convenient for you."

Gimli grunted. Now was fucking convenient, but he knew better. He didn't want to push this. Didn't want Legolas to feel rushed. Instead, he tip-toed up to kiss Legolas, (having to pull him down a little for full contact) full on the mouth, giving the smooth-faced elf a little beard-rash in the process.

Then he pressed their foreheads together. "I love you," he whispered. It was just so easy to say. Just so true.

"And I love you, melith-nin."

Gimli left to march back up the hill, checking the time on his phone. Diffy Q was already half over. What was the point? His pants had mostly dried, but he knew he wouldn't focus. He sent a text to Loni, asking for the notes, and headed to his dorm. Then he texted Thranduil and thanked him for the warning, letting him know Legolas was okay now.

~~~

Legolas watched Gimli hike up the hill towards the main campus, batting at the still damp patch on his jeans. He longed for him even as he let him go. 

Oh, this would not do. He was acting like a love-sick Man. Still, he enjoyed laying his eyes upon Gimli, this star, his firebrand. 

Once the dwarf crested the hill and could be seen no longer, Legolas returned to his discarded clipboard and continued filling out the form for each plant. Different soil amendments, different soil types. Lighting. Moisture. It all had to be calculated along with the health of each plant.

He did not relish returning to the warrior-mind to retrieve more. The way a stone shell grew over him like mold…. Legolas shook himself. He'd retreated, his father had said… and while (even at the time) he knew his father was correct, he still hadn't _seen_ it. Blind. He'd been blind.

No, he was a different person now than he had been in the ages when he'd had to take up the bow. He did not relish returning to that person… retreating to him, permanently.

He finished up and bemoaned his own soiled trousers. Well, he had no classes to teach this afternoon, just office hours (which he sorely felt like skipping, but he'd been gone too long already). He should just go home. But he wanted to visit the lab and look over the plants, sing to them, talk to them. Plants enjoyed a song now and then.

So, by five that evening Legolas was entering the lab with a key he'd been given. Nobody was around. He assumed Bifur was in the clean room. Legolas wouldn't need to go into any of the rooms requiring protective gear, which he was thankful for since none of the suits were elf-sized. Instead he dropped a note to Bifur in Westron about his presence and went into the make-shift greenhouse. 

There were five plants in here. One had already been hacked up a bit, the variety of new and older leaves removed from the stems. Also some of the roots for the avoberberine. Probably the various plant parts were now being broken down to find that healing agent within. The other four were under a grow lamp in simple pots with proper drainage. They had a wilted look to them, so Legolas began humming a soft tune and fingered the soil. Too damp. He'd have to change the soil. He grabbed some pH strips to test the soil chemistry. Not acidic enough. He'd need some peat and some sand. 

He went to work.

~~~

Back at home, Legolas dressed in casual loose trousers and a buttoned-down silk cornsilk blue shirt. (He wanted to look good, but not like he'd tried too hard, but the color nearly matched his eyes and he loved it when Gimli lost himself in his gaze.) He stepped down into the den where his father was unwinding with wine, soft music and a book.

Thranduil didn't even look up at Legolas, but he smiled. "I see you are feeling better?"

"Yes, adar, I am. Thank you for your concern earlier. I hadn't—realized."

"I know how it is." He took a sip of his wine.

"Father, I – Gimli is coming over tonight."

His father looked up with brows raised.

"I just wanted to prepare you. For his visit."

Thranduil dipped his head. "Thank you for the warning, that my home will be invaded by dwarves."

Legolas bristled, then realized his father was merely teasing. He just wasn't quite sure how to handle a non-hostile Thranduil when it came to dwarves.

"Just one." Legolas took in a breath and said, "He will be staying the night." 

Thranduil's lips curled into an even larger smile. "Good."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Gimli had considered flowers or chocolates. But really, Legolas wasn't food obsessed, and he'd probably be offended by the amputated reproductive organs of plants. He'd even considered jewelry. Like a ring or necklace, but Legolas didn't wear either, and it felt… wrong. Like he was trying to dupe Legolas in some way. Convince him Gimli was worth it, but Gimli already _knew he was worth it_. But, he was courting his One. And the present was already made. And tonight he would be giving it to him…

Well, Legolas knew it was coming. 

He fingered the mithril bead, tumbled it over his palm. There were vines inlayed with gold into the silver metal. Leaves and flowers. Some flowers had tiny shards of sapphire, the blue to capture Legolas' eyes. Thorin found it more than a little amusing that the Durin blue and Legolas' eyes matched, if not in shade, in hue.

"He's meant to be claimed by the one of the line," Thorin had said with his prideful smirk. Gimli hadn't minded, though.

Gimli set the bead back in its little box and stuffed it in his jacket pocket. He'd wanted to look nice (but not like he'd put too much effort in it), and he brushed his hands over his chocolate brown shirt, smoothing out any wrinkles. He'd eschewed jeans for slacks (and right there, it was a sure sign he was trying) and wore polished leather shoes. That shined.

Oh, who was he kidding? He'd shined his shoes! Scoffing at himself, he pushed the doorbell.

In two heart beats the door opened. Legolas stood there, his glow warm, his hair a spill of spun gold over his shoulders. The shirt he'd dressed in seemed to make his eyes even more blue (if that was possible). And the smile, radiant. Radiant and joyful and Gimli couldn't stop himself from returning it.

"You're here."

"Right on time."

"Actually, you're two minutes late." Legolas stepped back, the movement causing his airy shirt to flutter. "Come in, please."

Gimli felt suddenly nervous. 

"Have you eaten? I made us dinner."

Gimli had been too nervous to eat anything but some nutty bread he'd stored in his four-square-foot dorm fridge. "No, I haven't. Wait, you cooked?"

Legolas laughed, the sound filling the large foyer as he led Gimli to the dining room. "It is one of the skills I've picked up over the years. Though, I must say, I have yet to meet the skill of any hobbit. Have you had Bilbo's dumplings and stew?"

"No. I haven't eaten any hobbit food." Nor had he eaten any home cooked elf food. The idea of food relaxed Gimli. He hadn't been sure what to expect, honestly. With their text conversation still heavy in his mind, he had worried about certain (very specific) things and made other assumptions. What if Legolas didn't mean sex? What if what they'd already done together fulfilled the elf? (And there was No Way Gimli would push him into anything more.) Who would instigate? Who would top? He wasn't all that experienced himself, but Legoals was a virgin, for Mahal's sake. Did _virgins_ even really exist? Thousand-year-old virgins?

In the dining room, with a ridiculously large teak table that could seat twelve, Legolas left him. "I shall go gather the food." Two settings were placed, along with burning candles, so Gimli sat at one and waited. 

Thranduil walked in (floated in) and greeted Gimli. "Good evening, Gimli."

"Good evening, Thranduil." Crap, Legolas' father was here; on the night he was going to deflower his son. Well, the house was big.

Thranduil watched Gimli, his unnatural stillness making Gimli squirm. Then the ancient elf tilted his head, his own spill of hair dropping off his shoulder. "I want to thank you. My son… he was quite the warrior in the Third Age, and the delivery of so much death can darken a soul. I would hate to see that stain return. Legolas has this desire to protect everyone, and often times he forgets himself for others."

Gimli listened, and then closed his mouth that had fallen open. Legolas was a war hero, according to some of his fansites. He'd never put that into the actual sense that he'd _killed people_ and possibly regretted that. His PTSD must be overwhelming.

Then the air of intimacy was dashed away as Thranduil turned away, his elf-styled robe billowing in his wake. "I shall be out late tonight. Please, enjoy yourselves." Thranduil passed by the kitchen and bid his son goodbye, and then the door closed.

Oh. Now they were alone. (Was he suddenly more nervous?)

He ran his fingers through his hair, smoothed out his braids. His hands were shaking. He stuffed them in his lap.

Legolas came out with two bowls and set them on each plate. He dipped back into the kitchen for a platter with a silver cover. The smells tickled Gimli's stomach, which decided it was hungry after all. Rich pepper and basil wafted from the tray, and more basil from the soup. Plus a loaf of bread.

"I didn't make the bread, but it's from Best Baguette, so it should be good." Legolas settled down in the chair and set his napkin down on his lap. Gimli simply stared at the food.

"This smells delicious," he said with a roll to his tongue. He beamed at Legolas and tried the soup. Nothing he could do could stop his moan of pleasure. "What is this? It's so good!"

"Sweet basil soup with beans and quinoa. I wasn't sure what you would like, so I also made some fried rice with shitake mushrooms as the meat replacement."

"So, why are you vegetarian?" Gimli asked, wondering if it was an ethical decision.

Legolas shrugged. "Well, I could eat meat if I wanted to, it just doesn't sit well with me. The flavor…" he shook his head, tossing away the remainder of his explanation. "Many elves prefer not to eat meat. Though the Silvan elves eat more of it than the High or Half-elven."

Even without meat, the dish was filling and good. Damn good! They chatted about the plant, the lab, Gimli's classes (though he did not confess about the piles of homework he'd been unable to focus on lately), and the classes Legolas' taught. It was nice, yet superficial. But Gimli didn't want to delve into anything to upset his elf. Still, there were many things he needed to know. To understand who Legolas was, give him real information the fansites only guessed at.

They were on the final course, a fruit salad with strawberries, kiwi and bananas, when he couldn't hold it in anymore. 

"Legolas—" the elf looked up at him, fork halfway to his mouth. "—I realize I don't know much about you. Now, I know I can't know everything, and time together will allow us certain understandings, but there are facts and history and ideas and thoughts that I just want to understand. I want to _know you_. Know if you like chocolate, how you feel about bouquets of flowers, if you've ever climbed mountains or who your friends are or how far you've traveled. I'd like to hear some of your stories, so I can comprehend where your choices might come from." He sighed, unsure if anything he was saying made sense. "I feel … this desperate need … to understand."

Legolas set his fork down and reached across the table. Gimli set his hand atop Legolas'. "I do understand, and I do have this same need. I want to know what your braids mean, and if it would be okay for me to add a braid to your collection. To know more about your family, since I know family is all important to dwarves. I want to know your dreams and your worries. Most of all, I want to stand by you through them. To offer the right support." His glow seemed to lighten in the candlelight. "For I will be by you through it all, melith-nin."

Gimli felt his own inner glow at this promise and squeezed the hand.

"Shall we finish and retire, then. We could talk by the fire. Share stories." Legolas' eyes slipped away.

Gimli rose from his chair and moved around the table, standing before Legolas. He was nervous, oh by the roots of his beard, he was nervous. He took Legolas' hands in his and urged him to stand. "That would be lovely, Legolas, but perhaps we can save the conversations for the wee hours of the morning, and take pleasure in each other in this darkest hour of night." 

Legolas' face lit up; his glow sparkled. "Yes, Gimli. That sounds like the best plan."

With sweaty palm gripped in sweaty palm, Legolas led Gimli upstairs to a large suite. Legolas' living quarters consisted of a sitting room, a bed room, and a bathroom with a huge claw-foot tub. It was four times the size of his dorm room.

After the quick tour that ended in the bedroom, Legolas dropped his hands to his sides. "I must say, I'm at a loss. Other than throwing myself at you, how should we progress from here?"

Gimli wiggled his eyebrows. "Throw, I'll be sure to catch."

Laughing delightedly, Legolas did just that. He nearly leapt into Gimli's arms, which was quite acrobatic since Gimli was a good head and shoulders shorter than Legolas. Gimli swept him up. Though the elf had height, he was a slight thing, and Gimli was a strong dwarf. With eager lips, he kissed all along his elf's neck and face, landing on his soft lips. Legolas kissed back with fervor, graceful and lustful, and it nearly undid Gimli's self-control. With confidence, Legolas' tongue brushed against Gimli's lips, and he opened to it, adding his own tongue to this sultry dance. The taste of Legolas blossomed throughout Gimli's mouth. The fruit they'd just eaten, a hint of mint, the warmth and heat.

With the utmost gentleness, he laid Legolas down upon his bed, leaning over his longer body. 

"Before..." Gimli paused, swallowed. He sat up and dug around in his pocket, pulling out a box. "Legolas." He glanced up at Legolas, a quick darting of his gaze. "You are my One. I've known you only a short while, but I love you." He pulled the top of the box up and fingered the prize within. Legolas was embedded in his heart. "In dwarven culture, we weave beads into our intended's hair, and I've one for you, I'd like you to wear."

Legolas sat up, all attention with a warm glow. "It would honor me to wear your bead."

Gimli climbed up the bed to be near Legolas and placed the bead in the elf's open palm. Then he took a string of golden hair from behind the elf's ear and braided a five strand braid that signified he was mated with another. Maybe a little preemptive, but the legal matters were superficial compared to the matters of their hearts. Then he attached the bead to the bottom of the braid. 

"It is done?"

"Yes," Gimli said, and quickly added the same braid to his own hair, attaching a simple bead he'd had.

"You must teach me that braid, so I can weaver your hair on my own." Legolas ran his fingers through Gimli's hair, caressing the wavy strands. "I have your song, but I want to wait, until we are in the trees, and they can sing with me."

Gimli captured Legolas' lips with his own. Using both hands, he began unbuttoning Legolas' pale blue shirt, his fingers nimble and quick, popping each one out of the button hole until he'd finished the last one. Reverently, he opened the shirt, revealing Legolas' smooth skin, pink nipples, and hairless chest. 

All of it, every inch of that landscape before him, a temptation, and Gimli was pretty much given full access to this delectable treat. He would not hold back. He trailed soft kisses from neck to chest (and growled possessively when the bruises he'd left earlier stood out against the pale skin), more teasing than anything, not because he wanted to tease, but because he was honestly more than a little nervous. He circled his tongue around one dark pink nipple, sucked, nibbled. Then moved onto the next. Legolas was digging his hands through Gimli's hair, rubbing and massaging his scalp. The scrape of nails was delicious. Gimli dipped his tongue into the elf's navel and those fingers in his hair tightened, his back arched and a needy sigh slipped from his lips. Okay, so nipples didn't do much for Legolas, but belly button did. He circled the edge of his belly button again, earning another groan of pleasure, then nuzzled even lower.

Legolas' entire body stiffened. Stilled in readiness. Wondering what elven recuperation was like, Gimli fingered the waistband of Legolas' soft pants and unbuttoned them.

"Gimli—" Legolas sounded uncertain. 

"Just relax," Gimli said, his own voice having grown deeper as his eyes traced over his braid in Legolas' hair.

A low chuckled. "That's kind of hard right now. No pun intended."

And Legolas certainly was... tenting the front of his pants. Gimli licked his lips. "You can always ask me to stop," he said, opening the front of Legolas' trousers, releasing his stiff erection. "I don't want to do anything—"

"Oh, please, just get on with it!"

Gimli swallowed him down. Legolas released a noise, half sigh, half groan, and didn't _that_ telegraph directly down to Gimli's own unattended shaft.

He'd never actually done this. It was completely new to have another man's penis in his mouth, but the skin was soft, the taste not bad, and the sounds it tore from Legolas were utterly delectable. But he noticed, as he continued to administer unskilled attention on Legolas, using a hand at the base and shifting from licking along the shaft to sucking in the head, he really enjoyed performing this act. His own body was rallying even more now than before, and at some point he found himself rubbing against the bed, hoping for some sort of attention.

"Gimli. Gimli—stop."

"Why?"

"I want to touch you, too. I can't just be a doll. I want to participate." The sparkle in Legolas' eyes sent sparks up Gimli's nerves, and he shivered. 

"We could sixty-nine."

Legolas' eyebrows bunched as he pondered that, then they lifted as he got it. "Oh, yes. Let's do that. Gimli, you have the best ideas."

Gimli quickly shucked his clothes, while Legolas discarded the rest of his. Part of Gimli mourned the loss to not unwrap the rest of his present himself, but Legolas' eagerness to try a sixty-nine was too (dare he say it) adorable. So, Gimli, naked as the day he was born, crawled up on the bed. Legolas watched him and reached out to run his fingertips over his chest. Gimli let him look. He looked too, at his elf. Together they touched and caressed. Mapped out each other's body from chest to waist. 

Legolas took Gimli's erection in hand, squeezed and smiled when Gimli twitched. Legolas leaned down, his hair brushing all along Gimli's thighs, and Gimli held his breath as Legolas wrapped his lips around him.

"Ah, amdâru Mahal." He grabbed for Legolas' head and struggled to not squeeze and direct. Instead, he just held on, lightly as could be, feeling the heat around his erection. So much for a sixty-nine.

At first Legolas only took him in shallowly, and Gimli didn't mind that, but the elf was a martial master and soon took him in deeply, circling him tightly with his lips, drawing his tongue up the underside. Then he'd suck solely on the head, then take him in again. Gimli's balls tightened. 

"Legolas. Legolas... stop." Another tongue-swirl on the head. "You're too good at this. I— I don't want to spend myself yet."

With one final suck, Legolas sat up, smirking. The damned elf was smirking. "You enjoyed that?"

Gimli growled, then tackled his One back to the bed. "I did. Very much. You have such a skillful, wicked mouth, my elf."

Legolas chuckled, the sound deeper, sultry. Fuck! Gimli wanted him now. But he didn't want to rush. He enjoyed just being here, laying on Legolas, feeling skin upon skin, but his nethers had so many other plans.

"So, um," Legolas began. Gimli urged him on with a twitch to his hips. Legolas' eyes widened. "How do we do this? I mean, I don't mean how, but..."

Gimli took pity on him. "I've only ever topped. I've never," he felt himself blush, though he was already naked before his God and his One, "been the one penetrated. But I think you should top first."

"Why do you think that? You think I might become afraid and run away?"

Gimli chuckled. Legolas smiled in response, causing Gimli's heart to dance in his chest. Their bodies so close, they felt everything of each other. "A little, maybe. We'll try it both ways eventually, so who goes first doesn't rightly matter much." Gimli realized he didn't really care. Well, he did. He was nervous about bottoming. The one dwarf he'd been with before liked it though, and since finding Legolas, Gimli had researched the proper angles and tricks to bring your partner the most pleasure. (Those websites had been cleared from his history as well.)

"Please," Legoals said, "you are the experienced one," Gimli snorted at that, yeah, really experienced, "you top first. And then we will test out your recovery when it is my turn." Legolas gave Gimli a near feral grin, and his heart did another dance, with a twist this time. Oh hell.

"My recovery! Let's worry about yours, you thin twig." But Gimli didn't put much force behind that argument, as he scrambled off the bed and went for his jacket, where his lube was stashed in an inside pocket. He lifted it aloft like it was the prize flag, and he was returning to home base. Legolas laughed again, and then shifted his legs, opening himself to Gimli. Gimli tripped and fell, bouncing on the mattress. 

He crawled up the bed between Legolas' legs and licked up the length of his prick. "By the Valar you are so beautiful," he said reverently. Legolas watched him, eyes dark, nostrils wide as he sucked in air.

Legolas closed his eyes for a moment, opened them again. His glow had dimmed a little, turned into a softer spectrum. 

Gimli unscrewed the cap and doused his fingers, drippling some on the comforter. "Okay, so, some rules. Tell me to stop if you need me to. I'm going to go really slow here, okay?"

Legolas nodded. 

Gimli circled Legolas' hole, coating the outside. Legolas grunted, a faint unsure sound. Gimli looked at him until the elf nodded for him to continue. Gimli kissed Legolas' knee as he slowly, gently, pressed his index finger into the tight hold of Legolas' body. The muscles spasmed around his intrusion, and Gimli's cock very much liked the reaction.

Gimli mumbled a stream of filth in Khudzul, pressing his forehead into Legolas' knee. How was he going to last?

"My love, I cannot understand you." Legolas panted, his words stilted and airy.

"Good." Gimli pressed his finger in farther, just a little. Slowly, he slid in. Gently he breached his One.

"Oh my," Legolas said, adjusting his hips. "This feels… well, odd."

Gimli chuckled. "You feel marvelous around my finger… I can't… I…" he gave up talking and pulled out, then pushed in again. A slow intrusion and retreat, and he could feel those tight muscles loosening around his finger.

"Ready for another?" he asked, looking up Legolas' long body to meet his eyes. Legolas nodded, his mouth partially open, cheeks bright with color. He reached out and brushed Gimli's hair. Gimli leaned into the caress and began the same slow ministrations with two.

"Oh!" 

"Sorry, I'll go slower." Dishearteningly, he noticed Legolas' erection was failing. That wouldn't do. He shifted his body between Legolas' legs and, after giving him a heated stare, licked along Legolas' length as he pressed in with two fingers. He pushed the fingers up, looking for that bundle of nerves. Maybe he wasn't deep enough. Or it was too soon.

He continued to lick, pulling in and out with his fingers, a slow seduction. Legolas' erection showed interest again, and when it was sufficiently revived, Gimli swallowed it down. Legolas groaned and scrambled for Gimli's hair. Gimli pressed in farther as he sucked. Pushing up. Where was that?

Legolas shifted his hips again and without removing his mouth, he added more lube to his fingers. The third one. He didn't want to hurt Legolas. Didn't want to turn him off of the act. So, with great care, he inserted his fingers and sucked.

Legolas let loose a mix of an eep and a moan and Gimli couldn’t help but chuckle around his mouthful. Which added more moan than eep to the next set of noises. With those three fingers he gently stretched open his One, still angling for the sweet spot, the spot his other lover helped him find. Maybe elves didn't have them? Oh crap, well that wasn't good.

He pressed again, and Legolas cried out. "Oh, by the Valar. That was nice. Do that again."

Gimli complied, inwardly cheering and sighing in relief. 

He brushed up against that spot again while sucking Legolas's erection deep down. He nearly gagged, so settled for shallower swallows, pulling out moans and sighs like sweet rewards. His own cock, impatient beast, dripped against the comforter. 

"Legolas," he said, a gravely desperation to his voice. "Are you ready?"

"Yes. I believe so. Please," he spread his legs wide and Gimli crawled up his body. The height difference was a bit annoying, he really only could kiss Legolas' chin unless the elf curled forward, but they managed to meet in the middle. Gimli aligned himself, nudged Legolas' entrance, and eased in.

"Oh! You're quite… ahh, large!"

Gimli preened under the assessment, but stopped his forward intrusion. "Let me know when you're ready."

Legolas shifted again, and oh if that didn't fan his desire. He pressed his forehead against Legolas' chest, waiting for the okay, breathing in calming air.

"You can continue."

Gimli did, his hands braced on Legolas' knees as he passed that tight ring of muscles. Oh, Mahal's balls, the tightness, the heat. Gimli barely kept from flicking his hips in one sharp thrust. Legolas' head was thrown back, his hair a halo spreading over the comforter, his new braid flung over the wave of it. His glow seemed to oscillate from bright to a faded yellow, to a bright white again. Finally Gimli was in completely, the tight heat encasing him. It was amazing. All he wanted was to thrust, to fill Legolas, to make him cry out. Give him pleasure. But he waited. And waited.

Legolas looked up at him. "Is that it? Aren't you supposed to move?" And the damned elf smirked.

"Oh yes. I'll move. You just need to hold on."

Even with is bravado, he pulled back slowly, and inched back in with little thrusts. Then he sank into his love with one smooth stroke. Legolas hissed blissfully and then wrapped Gimli up with his legs, pulling him closer. Gimli gasped, stilled. The union of their bodies was the most intense things he'd ever felt.

"Legolas. Legolas, I—"

"Gimli, please."

Gimli's thrusts continued, shallow at first, but soon he picked up the pace, satisfying both of their needs. Gimli fumbled with the lube and dumped a fair amount on Legolas' cock and began stroking his One in time with his thrusts. Their eyes locked, brilliant sapphire blue with his own chocolate brown. Nothing else existed.

His orgasm was fast approaching, but he had a deep-seated need for Legolas to come first. He shifted his angle, aiming for that knot of nerves, brushing against it as Legolas released a sob, grasping onto Gimli's arms. 

"Legolas, come for me, love. Come for me."

Legolas' eyes widened, then he seemed to melt for one instant before his body convulsed, stiffened, and his seed erupted over his belly, splattered Gimli's hand. Muscles constricted around him, milking him to his own release and he growled as his own orgasm struck him, nearly blacking him out in its intensity. He continued to thrust, to soar on the power of their combined passion. He let it wash through him until light and sense came back. He was sprawled out on Legolas, the pounding of the elf's heartbeat echoing in his ear. Legolas was petting his hair. He felt a kiss on the top of his head.

He felt like glowing, just like his elf.

Finally, knowing he wasn't a light thing (dwarves were dense folk), he lifted himself off Legolas and let himself slip out.

"Just a minute," he said and ran to the bathroom where he wetted a town and returned to clean them off. 

Legolas was smiling beatifically. His glow soothing and sedate. When Gimli finished washing them up, Legolas held out his arms for Gimli. He stopped a moment, though, caught by the sight. Legolas was so beautiful. In this moment, he outshone even Lady Galadriel. His heart couldn't take it, so he had to look away as he climbed up the bed, pulling a blanket over them as he settled next to Legolas' side.

"That was amazing."

Gimli sighed in unexpected relief. "Good. I'd hate to put you off the entire business."

Legolas nuzzled him. "Oh, I think you've done quite the opposite, melith-nin. Perhaps tonight we shall discover who has the greatest endurance, elf or dwarf."

Gimli's cock, tired and sated for the moment, did take notice of that. "Is that a challenge, my love?"

"Perhaps. But now, I just want to hold you."

Gimli wondered if he wasn't glowing right now. "Hmm, I think that sounds amazing."

Legolas did outlast Gimli (maybe it was three millennium of pent up sexual repression) but Gimli asked for a rematch at some later date. Legolas agreed.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Legolas walked (with a certain skip to his step) towards Smaug's for a quick bite before office hours, unsure of what to expect from Tauriel's current occupation as manager and bartender.

"That's quite a glow you've got on you," Tauriel said once he sat at the bar, her own glow a dull shimmer about her. Her eyes skimmed along Legolas' hair. "Nice bead. Finally get laid?" she asked as she began mixing a drink.

He traced his finger over the intricate dwarven braid in his hair. Legolas wondered if he should deny anything, but Tauriel was a friend of sorts. They had a history. "Yes. With my Heart."

Tauriel studied him, then busted into a huge smile. "Good for you!" Then she pushed a drink over to him, rich with a spicy scent. "Celebration drink."

Legolas was a little stunned. "Why are you smiling like that?"

She dropped the smile. "Doesn't work?"

"Work? Are you trying to channel Bofur?"

She stared blankly at him. He decided this could be fun. "I like the smile. It makes you approachable as a proper bartender."

She smiled again. Really, it was beautiful (and only a little forced). He nodded his approval.

"So, you and that red-headed dwarf. The young one?" She looked at him pointedly.

"Gimli. Yes. He's beautiful and fulfills my yearnings, and he's smart. He wants to build things. He has this enchanting voice, deep and resonating. With our chests against each other, any time he laughs, I feel it deep inside." Legolas finally shut up, his cheeks heating. 

Tauriel's smile melted into something real, and she patted his hand. "Good for you. Really. Drink that. It's good, I promise."

He sipped the cinnamon drink, and, to his shock, it was good. He ordered a cheese sandwich with pickle and quietly enjoyed his last lunch.

"So, how goes the dwarves' work?" Tauriel asked. "With the antivirus?"

Legolas cocked an eyebrow. He hadn't known Tauriel noticed or even cared about what was happening with the Ovata Vora and the Arkenstone Virus. Or how the dwarves wished to regain their ancestral home in the Lonely Mountain. He wondered if any of it was supposed to be secret. He didn't think so, but perhaps there would be a challenge to the mountain if all of the treasure hunters found out entering the mountain was no longer a death sentence. If they discovered the cure they would have to move quickly. They needed to keep it all under their control until the mountain was reclaimed. 

"It's going well. Slow work, but they've time." He decided that was a suitable non-answer.

"And Bombur, the one who was attacked by the troll?"

"His internal injuries required a few operations." Thinking back on the attack, his old warrior self wanted to rise up and push away his emotions. He would not let that happen again. "He is still recovering. It could take months. Do you know when Bofur will return?"

"Tired of me already?" Tauriel lifted one eyebrow, her face oddly neutral. Then he realized what kept Tauriel apart. She was in warrior mode, always. Like he'd been after the battle. Her glow minimized to a faint halo. All these years she'd kept herself honed, on alert, ready to kill and defend. To inevitably lose someone she'd cared for. She'd never mellowed out into this modern world of relative safety. She was still... wild.

He lifted his drink. "No, this is good. I approve." He smiled at her, held her eyes. "Do you miss the old days? When you were captain of my father's guard?"

Her stare hardened and he didn't think it was aimed at him so much as aimed into the past. They all did that, all of the First Born. Sometimes they got lost in the layers and the years and the memories. Many got lost for too long and faded. 

"I miss the beauty and the wonder of the world," Tauriel said in a near whisper. Legolas was shocked she'd even responded. "I miss... the adventure. I miss having a reason."

"A purpose," Legolas offered.

Tauriel's intensity faded, and she looked away. "Yes."

Legolas reached out and gently touched her hand. She stared at the point of contact, looking lost. It made something deep within Legolas ache. He understood.

Tauriel blinked her zoned-out expression away. "Maybe I can help. I know some people."

"People?"

She nodded, a smile brightening her usual aloofness. "Yeah, people."

~~~

Bilbo, though hampered by a broken arm, was back in the lab with Bifur. 

On the wall above the army of electron microscopes was a type of shrine, dedicated to Bombur. A large photo of him, smiling (showing off his ample cheeks), in a lab coat, holding up a vial that was glowing neon green. It was the first decoding of the Arkenstone Virus. A huge step in learning how to battle this disease.

They'd hired some graduate students at slave wages to also help with some of the more simple lab tasks, such as washing glassware and preparing slides. But more surprisingly, there had three ace micro-biologist elves from GH Labs that had arrived earlier that day with a letter from Thorin. They were on loan, to help the dwarves in their scientific study. 

"How did Thorin find you?" Bilbo asked the elves.

The tall female elf, Shuladi, dark brown hair shimmering under the overhead light so bright it dulled her glow, said, "We were asked by the heiress to aid you in your research."

"The heiress?" And the lightbulb went off. "Tauriel?"

The elf nodded. "It is as you say. She has taken an interest in your project, and we are delighted to aid you at her command. You see, Ovata Vora is not unknown to us."

Bifur's language barrier proved to slow things down, so Oin was stationed at the lab to help translate Bifur's orders and help the ease of communication between the four scientists.

It was a long day of everyone catching up and finding themselves on the same page. Bilbo offered his aid in the places they thought the most useful. The elves were quite delighted with his broad array of knowledge and skills. Jack of all Trades, Ace of None.

At the end of his day, he said goodbye to the three graduate students and went in to check on Gollum. He scrubbed down, suited up, and carried some raw fish in a sealed plastic baggie. He went through the sealed doors, first sliding open, then closing, the vacuum sealed him in, he got sprayed, then the far door opened and he entered the creature's reserve. He turned down the lights to an evening din.

"Hobbitses has fishie?" Gollum asked, his eyes narrowed in the dim light.

"Yes, Gollum." He dumped the fish in the chute and watched the twisted victim of the virus chow down on the raw meat.

Bilbo jumped when the hermetically sealed doors wooshed open and Shuladi walked in. In her day clothes. Without any protective ware.

"What are you doing?" Bilbo demanded.

The elf only looked at him. "I am in no danger of the virus."

Bilbo's fear and anger eased. "Are elves immune?" Honestly, he hadn't done that much research on what was known about the virus. Only what was known about its potential eradication.

"No. But he is not carrying the active virus any longer. He has already been changed and poses no viral contamination." 

Bilbo just stared at her. Then, why all these precautions?

"You didn't know?" she asked. Then her eyes roamed over the cage the creature was in. "Seems the dwarves did not either, for I know them enough to know they are not typically cruel."

"What do you mean? How do you know he's not contagious? How are you so certain?"

"Because, Mr. Baggins, those who were once infected are a natural early warning system. In proximity to the virus, and therefore if they are carrying the active virus, they have blue tones to their skin."

From the cage, Gollum smacked his lips and tossed the fish bones against the glass wall.

~~~

Two weeks later, with the combined intellect of two dwarves, three elves, three human lab assistants, and a knowledgeable Hobbit, they discovered the antiviral properties of Ovata Vora and processed them into a viable injection.

~~~

"Now quiet down," Oin translated for Bifur into Westron. "It's just the first step. We need to test this, but it looks good." Oin puffed out his chest, because it had been his theory (they had five different studies going at once) that had led them to the antivirus. 

Thorin stood in the back of the main lab, listening to the array of conversation, theories, ideas, congratulations bouncing between the lab's workers. Bilbo was amongst them, his curly hair tamed by a paper hair cap, his eyes as bright and delighted as everyone else's. His cast, soon to come off, was covered in bright shades of ink with everyone's well wishes. It was a group success and Thorin was so happy Bilbo had helped.

From across the room Bilbo caught his eye, his smile widened, seeming to brighten the already well lit room. Thorin smiled back.

Bilbo wove his way through the small crowd to Thorin's side. "So, maybe 'years' is an over-exaggeration," Bilbo said. "Maybe it will only take months to get us to Erebor."

Us. Bilbo thought of himself as one of them. Thorin purred, even as the concept of months still nagged him.

An elf scientist came up to them. "I apologize of overhearing your conversation, and not to overly simplify the challenge ahead, but I think we are closer than you think, Mr. Baggins. Ovata Vora is a divine gift from Yavanna and a simple one. We have worked with her before." Before modern medicine most likely. "Though, it is important to realize, an antivirus is not a cure," the scientist continued. "The Arkenstone Virus will not be eradicated, but you can make it so it does not twist you into a gollum with the antivirus. My Lady might have more information for you, but the only way I know to stop this disease totally is to find the source of the virus and destroy it," she said. Thorin knew the source: the stone itself. It was in the depths of the mountain, hidden away. "As I'm sure you realize, the mountain will still be infested with gollums, and they will not give their ground easily. You have tamed one, Mr. Baggins, but you cannot tame an entire mountainful with fish and kind words."

"So, it's a battle we go into?" It worried Bilbo, Thorin could tell. He wasn't sure if it was the threat to his friends, if it was threat to himself, or if he was worried about all the infected within the mountain. Probably the latter.

Bifur said in Khudzul, "We could gas the place. Put them all under, then cage them. Though, what to do with thousands of the wretches, I've no idea." He shrugged. Oin didn't translate for the others.

It was, perhaps, a kinder solution. Looking at Bilbo's big, round eyes, Thorin wanted to find the kindest way possible. But what would they do with the gollums? Who would care for them?

"This heiress. Is she into philanthropy?"

Bilbo shared a look with the elves and they all began laughing. It wasn't a good sign. 

"Tauriel? Well…" Bilbo looked at the elves.

"I would not say she is a philanthropist. However, if she finds something interesting enough, she might get involved."

"Good. I'd like to meet with her. Can you set something up…" he paused. He'd never caught the elf's name!

"Shuladi, at your service." She bowed, totally throwing Thorin at her dwarvish display.

"Thorin, at yours. If you can manage that."

"Of course, King without a Mountain. I will do as you ask. And may you return to your homeland, sooner than later."

Thorin could only say a mumbled thanks before the elf walked away. Bilbo beamed at him.

~~~

They met at Smaug's on a Tuesday night, Bofur (returned with Bombur, though the dwarf was still in recovery) having closed the place up for the special meeting. Thorin dressed in suit and tie—it was a business meeting after all. The tall elf woman, Tauriel was her name, was also dressed in a suit with a fluffy cravat of green around her neck that contrasted nicely with her red hair. 

"Tauriel, thank you for meeting with me this evening." He shook her hand.

"Certainly, Thorin Oakenshield. I hope my employees have offered appropriate assistance to your endeavors."

They sat down at a table near one of the big windows, the overhead light outside shining down on the bushes bordering the street. Bofur delivered two glasses of wine. Thorin thanked him with a nod.

"Have you read my proposal?"

Tauriel, face far too impassive, glow low and steady (damned elves), nodded once. "I have. You want me to set up a fund for the long term care of the victims of the Arkenstone Virus. You do realize, thousands of people have mutated due to this virus. Thousands.

"Wouldn't it be easier to eradicate them all?" the elf asked.

Thorin flinched. "We do not live in those times anymore, Tauriel. All I need is for you to help set up facilities now, and I can use Erebor's wealth to run them. If we are lucky, we can destroy the Arkenstone and therefore the further spread of the virus. Who knows how the destruction of the stone will affect those already mutated."

Thorin took a sip of his wine and continued. "Shuladi said you might know more about this virus and its potential cure."

Tauriel shrugged, still not drinking any of her wine, which was a very good year. "Though it was a hobby of my guardian's, before the days of modern ethics, he came up with only one solid solution. The stone's destruction. And honestly, it could either cure them, or end their lives. Either way, both would be a boon to you."

"Do you know anything more?"

"Well, a type of pre-vaccine had already been developed for elves and men, though what your scientists have discovered outstrips the early inroads to that study. I can get you that information, if you'd like."

Thorin growled. Such information would have been useful years ago.

"Do not growl at me, Thorin." She leaned forward, her glow shifting around her. "I also must say that my guardian discovered it affects those of the line of Durin, differently. Within you, so closely related to the Mountain, you will heed nothing but gold and gems. Not only will your form give way to a monster, but your mind will degenerate into something as focused as a dragon's."

"Are you suggesting Dragon Sickness and the Arkenstone Virus are the same?"

She leaned back. "Of course they are not the same, but one triggers symptoms very close to the other." A vicious smile thinned her lips. "But only in a lucky few."

Thorin wouldn't let this distract him. How could being turned into a gollum really be any worse? Did a gold craving make it a harder sentence to live out?

"Fine. Anything else you can tell me?"

"Yes. When you go on your expedition, I will accompany you."

~~~

After sufficient trials, the antivirus was deemed ready and the Company (minus Bombur, because he was in no shape to go on any expedition with pierced and crushed internal bits) waited for their injections.

"So, you're not bringing Legolas?" Bilbo asked. "But you're bringing Tauriel?"

Bofur chuckled, but the rest of the party mainly groaned.

"She demanded it. In request for her aid." Thorin glanced at Gloin and back to Bilbo, then he shrugged. "Anyway, if I invite him…" he hoped Bilbo would read between the lines. If he invited Legolas, there was no way he couldn't invite Gimli, and then his father would probably shit eggs if he saw them doe-eyeing each other during the expedition.

"And are you sure I can't come?" Bilbo asked, more quietly, eyes not quite meeting Thorin's own. "My cast is off." He wiggled his wrist and fingers, in a playful, yet sad way.

Thorin pushed away his guilt and shook his head. "I'd rather you stay here. Safe. And, someone needs to care for Gollum. He seems to have taken to you."

"Just 'cause I talk to him," Bilbo said, running his hand through his hair, casting his curls into a halo. He looked off to the back of the lab, towards the containment cell, past the rowdy group jostling for the next injection. "He's fine you know. You could just... let him go or something. Or put him in a normal house. That cell, it isn't necessary."

"Maybe we can look into that when we return," Thorin said, and he thought it reasonable, but Bilbo glared up at him. Thorin wondered if Bilbo took his tone as condescending. Others did that at times, took his words wrong. He thought he'd gotten better this last decade. 

He cradled Bilbo's face with his hands, shifting his body to provide them a semblance of privacy in the busy lab. His hobbit was so small, and delicate. He'd already faced a troll... He didn't need to throw himself into anymore danger. "I just want you to be safe."

Bilbo softened, settled his own hands upon Thorin's. "Thorin, you can't coddle me. You can't treat me as less than I am. It makes me feel like you don't respect me." Thorin stiffened. Of course he respected Bilbo! He tried to speak, but Bilbo shook his head. "I'll stay, this time, but I am not a pretty princess to be set in a tower. I am competent and skilled, and I want to be by your side. You shut me away, and I'll wither. I won't be the Bilbo you love anymore." 

Thorin swallowed. His confident, strong hobbit. 

But the idea of his hobbit, (not made from the stone like a dwarf), running around Erebor with a legion of infected.... He couldn't do it. Every protective instinct in Thorin roared at him to Keep Bilbo Here. Safe. He didn't want to bring his nephews, but Dis insisted. "Give the lads some practical experience," or some such rot. If he had it his way, he'd go in alone, with just a sword and the antivirus, and he would carve his way to that stone and smash it into a shattering of pieces.

He wanted to protect them all. Keep them all safe. (Like he hadn't done for Bombur.)

Bilbo sighed and dropped his hands to his sides. He looked disappointingly at Thorin. Thorin touched the bead in Bilbo's hair, enticing a smile (small, but definitely there) from his One. 

"Oh, don't get all emo, Thorin." Bilbo exhaled a put-upon sigh. "I'm not mad at you... just... understand me. Don't dismiss me."

"Never, my ghivashel. I cherish you. And I'm sorry, but in this, I cannot put you in such danger. I just—" Something within him broke and a sob tore itself from his chest. (And had it become oddly quiet in this room full of dwarves?) "I—I can't lose you." Where had this pain come from? This terror? He clutched onto Bilbo, who gathered him up and cooed at him, petting Thorin's hair as their foreheads rested against each other.

"Oh Thorin, you are my love, and I just want to be with you, by your side. But I will stay. You don't need to worry." Then his eyes hardened. "But do not expect this of me ever again. Understood?"

Thorin nodded. He hoped they would face nothing like this ever again, but he would keep his promises.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Nobody was around to run Smaug's, so for the first time in seventy-five years, the bar's doors were locked tight and the lights turned off. Legolas and Bilbo stood out in the parking lot, staring at the 'Closed Until Further Notice' sign. Well, this idea of a little outing to cheer Bilbo up was an utter failure. 

"They left us behind," Bilbo said. Which Legolas interpreted as "Thorin left me behind," and honestly, Legolas couldn't blame him.

"We could break in and find the recipe to DragonFire (tm). Just to spite them." Legolas shrugged. He felt like dishing out a little spite.

Bilbo nodded sagely. "Yeah, that might make me feel better."

"I heard it made an elf's glow turn blue. I kinda wanna glow blue," Legolas admitted. It was something he'd never told anybody. Ever.

Bilbo snorted, then stiffened. "Glow blue.... Blue skin."

Legolas, understanding Bilbo was going down some brain path, froze and remained silent by his side. He watched the short male next to him as the wheels ground within the hobbit's head.

"Gollums skin turns blue when they are near the active virus," Bilbo said quietly. "That's what Shuladi said. Gollum is mutated, but no longer carries the active virus because he's been away from the source for so long. If they had Gollum with them, he would turn blue if others who still carried the virus were around. He could be an early warning detector if there were enemies nearby...." Bilbo looked up at Legolas, who saw exactly where Bilbo was going.

"You must see that this is a pretty thin excuse."

Bilbo just gave him a look.

Legolas didn't mind a thin excuse. "As you say. You get Gollum ready. I'll grab Gimli and meet you at the lab."

"Gimli?" Bilbo asked. "He's so young."

Legolas shook his head. "I will not leave my Heart behind. I do not want to earn his venom like Thorin has earned yours. Plus, it's his homeland. He deserves to see it." 

Bilbo grinned. "You and Thorin need to have a talk. Train him up a bit in proper boyfriend conduct."

Legolas laughed as he dashed off to his car and Bilbo raced to the lab.

Before he revved the engine, he sent a text to Gimli. Leg: **Hope you are caught up on your classwork. We are roadtripping to Erebor. Be ready.**

~~~

Gimli picked up his beeping phone. Read the message. Stared at his pile of homework.

He dialed a number on his phone. "Loni, I need a huge favor from you. I'll be gone for... about a week and... "

~~~

Gimli sent off his final email to his thermo prof explaining the death in the family and how he would have to travel north to Ered Mithrin for about a week. Loni would be collecting all of his homework (and would be doing it for him if they were both honest with this situation) and keeping up the charade. Gimli scrambled to finish up the things he could finish up, but he knew he couldn't do it all. He packed and left his room, waiting outside at the curb as Legolas cruised up in his Mazda SUV. Legolas bounced out of his door and swooped in to kiss Gimli, right there, in full daylight before the dwarf-exclusive dorm. Gimli kissed him right back, even added some tongue and savored the moan from his One.

"We must pick up Bilbo and Gollum," Legolas said, dumping Gimli's bag in the back that held other items, including a bow, a couple of ice chests, and a few bags.

"Yes, for the trip to my cousin's funeral," Gimli said loudly, when he noticed a few dwarven students watching them. "I shall miss old Doral." Gimli kept his expression sad. "Thank you for taking me."

"Of course," Legolas said, patting Gimli as he ushered him into the passenger seat. "I know you two were close." Legolas trotted around the front and jumped into the driver's seat and burned rubber as they raced towards the lab.

~~~

"We're taking that?" Gimli gestured at the gollum who wore a thin strip of cloth around his waist and sat on his haunches on the white tiled lab floor. (Really, the cloth thong did nothing for the creature's modesty.)

"Yes," Bilbo said, jabbing Legolas in the arm with an injection. "We can't just leave him here."

"Plus, he's the excuse for our trip," Legolas said with an air of the professor about him. "He is the indicator for the virus. They really should have taken him themselves, but since they didn't, we shall have to deliver him to them."

"Did you let Thorin know we were coming?" Gimli asked the two other males. The look they shared said, "Oh hell no, he'll find out the minute we show up in a luxury SUV with a mutant and a student and an icebox full of raw fish."

"Not yet," Bilbo said.

Gollum was reaching out for something on the counter and Bilbo bapped at his hands, tutting at the little beast. "Don't go grabbing things Gollum, or you won't get a nice fishie."

"Fishies? Nice hobbitses has fishies for us?"

Bilbo shared a look with Legolas, who nodded. "Once we're in the car." Legolas flinched a little, then seemed to go limp in resignation.

Gimli had an uncomfortable feeling this was going to be a very difficult and long ride. Bilbo injected himself and then came for Gimli with a fresh syringe, brandishing it in front of Gimli's face. "Ready?" the hobbit asked. Ready as he'd ever be.

~~~

The new north-south autobahn along the Anduin sped them along from Gondor University in no time at all. In the backseat, Bilbo fed Gollum bits of raw fish from a treat bag he had set below his feet that dangled from the seat in the overly large elf vehicle. Though he couldn't keep a seatbelt on the squirmy gollum, he did keep quiet once under his blanket hiding from the Yellow Face and munching on raw sashimi. 

Thorin and the Company had two days on them. He knew they had planned a stop in Greenwood City for supplies, hopefully that would take at least a day. Bilbo prayed they would be all right.

Bilbo fell into a fitful slumber after a while, feeling feverish. Curled up on the backseat, head towards the door cushioned by his red frock coat, he dreamed of hordes of gollums climbing all over a huge cave carved out of solid mountain to craft great arching walkways and high ceilings. The gollums were swarming over the Company. Biting into them. Tearing away at their skin and muscle. Eating them.

He woke with a quiet gasp, Gollum shaking him. "Hobbitses should be quiet."

"Oh, thank you, Gollum." Bilbo felt dizzy, and the spot where he'd given himself an injection was sore and fever red. Crap.

~~~

Speed was inconsequential for an elf driving down the wide-laned autobahn. Legolas let a little bit of his warrior through for the hyper awareness of traveling at one-forty and dodging between traffic and letting those willing to go even faster dash by him. 

"Um, Legolas?"

Legolas darted his gaze up to the rearview mirror where a decidedly peaky looking Bilbo was looking at him. Eyes back on the road, foot easing off the gas, he asked, "What is wrong?" 

Gimli twisted around. "Bilbo, you got the flu?"

"I think I'm having a bad reaction to the antivirus. We never tested it for hobbits."

"What does that mean?" Legolas asked. They were still at least two hours outside of Greenwood City, where he'd grown up before it was a modern metropolis of glass and steel. After that the autobahn ended and their speed would be hampered by curves and two lane highways. "Do you need to go to a hospital, Bilbo?"

"No... I don't think so." His friend's voice sounded thin and reedy. 

"Give him something to drink, Gimli. How about some ginger, Bilbo? Asprin? Something to cut that fever?" 

"Yeah, maybe?" Bilbo didn't sound sure. Gimli, leaning into the backseat, wrapped Bilbo up in a blanket, gave him ginger tea and aspirin, and kept him hydrated as Legolas blew past Greenwood City and continued on to Erebor.

~~~

Super High Lumen LED flashlights lit small patches of the stone walls of the open aired entrance of Erebor. The Mirkwood Outdoor Store in Greenwood City had been a trove of useful items for their expedition. Lights and airguns, rope and low VOC spray paint, gas masks, and fillable pressure release canisters. They were stocked up. 

Before the virus had thrust the dwarves of Erabor into exhile, this area of the great city held a market where merchants would set up temporary stalls on the two market days each week and sell crafts, tools and food. One of Thorin's favorites was a pipeweed stand (that carried forty varies of weed). Glorious. 

Now, there was nothing but debris and decay. 

Fili and Kili, much to their adolescent annoyance, were left with the vehicle, where they still received good cell reception, and were in control of one of the walkie-talkies. They checked in every five minutes. Now, within the first gate, Tauriel stood by Thorin's side, flashing the light all around. Thorin cast his towards the back, where the second gate took them even farther into the unlit depths of the mountain city.

All of the Company (plus Tauriel) were armored and armed. The majority wore a utility vest with knives, flashlights, and gas canisters. The elf had her bow strapped to her back, useful in the grand open spaces, but once they entered the narrow tunnels, there was always the concern for ricochet and taking out someone's toe. Everyone else had their martial weapons near at hand. But the main weapon for each was an airgun with tranquilizer darts. If they could avoid killing a gollum, they would. Unless they were overrun and had no choice. Thorin would not be a master of mass murder. 

"This is quite eerie. It's like a giant tomb. Perhaps all of the gollums have perished without food. Decimated their numbers through cannibalism until only one sad specimen remains." Tauriel zipped her flashlight to the left, startling everyone, but nothing was revealed by her light but a pile of broken wood and moldering fabric.

"Right sunny outlook, lass," Bofur said, his good cheer overpowering even the gloom of their homeland. "How about we have a new special on the menu to celebrate our return. You can name it. Something like Cannibal Stew maybe."

Thorin drowned them out (or attempted to, it was a challenge) and finally had to shoosh them to listen into the still darkness. The shifting of boots on the dirt covered stone, breathing, a brief clearing of someone's throat. That's all he heard. He did a quick check in with his nephews. The reception spit, though he could still here Fili's all clear.

"Let's go in farther. Oin and Balin, you two wait here with another walkie-talkie. Everyone, guns at the ready. Two by two. Bofur and Gloin you two take the rear, Dwalin, by me."

The dwarves and elf situated themselves in a marching order and followed Thorin's lead.

Many assumed the Arkenstone was in the throne room. That wasn't true. Others might have assumed it was in the huge treasure chamber overflowing with gold and gems and finely crafted artifacts. The stone wasn't there either. 

The Arkenstone. The cherished stone marking the rulership of the Dwarven Kingdom, that unleashed (unknowingly, seriously, nobody had a clue until months after it happened) the bloody Arkenstone Virus that mutated the majority of his people and those nearby in Dale and Laketown, was hidden in a storage shed on the fifth level of Gold Mine 7.

Thorin had hid it there following his grandfather's fall to the Gold Sickness. (It'd nearly torn his own heart out to do so, but he'd had the stones to do it then and he hoped he had the same stones now.)

The pathway was long. They had to pass through the front spaces of Erebor to the interior of the city until they met the mining stairways in the heart of the mountain, go down five levels and find that storage closet. He hoped he would remember which one it was. 

"Quickly. In and out."

A hallway appeared in the LED light and they passed it by. Then another hallway. Another. Each leading off to resitential areas, or commertial zones. Thorin kept scanning up and down the smooth walls along each of the passages, looking for some gray lurking beast like they had captured in the lab. That he'd left Bilbo to take care of. Part of Thorin felt guilty for leaving behind Bilbo (ditching him, really), but the majority of his baser instincts knew he had made the right decision. The safe decision, anyway. He'd make it up to Bilbo. Maybe they'd go on vacation to Lothlorian for a month during the summer break when Bilbo wasn't teaching children fast foot moves of ancient Shire dances.

Behind him, Bifur screamed out. Thorin twirled, his light spraying shocked faces, as a trio of gollums charged from the last passage. The sound of airguns popping lost itself in the cavernous room. One mutant hit the ground, then the other two tumbled over it.

Thorin's heart thundered against his ribs. It'd been years (a half-century if he were to be honest) since he'd been in any type of altercation that had his nerves strung this tight (you could play them like a harp.) "Any more down there?" 

The group sent beams of radiance down a hallway that led to meeting rooms once filled with grand tables, ornate chandeliers, and bookshelves presenting dry legal texts. Nothing else stirred. "I—don't see anything," Ori said sweeping his beam over the passage, catching the ghostly remnants of tapestries dripping from the walls. The beam curved up to the ceiling, where three more gollums waited. 

"There!" Dori cried out and the airguns pow pow powed.

In a triple thump, the three gollums smacked into the stone floor. 

"Let's take 'em and stash 'em in one of them rooms," Dwalin said. Thorin agreed and the Company gathered the six stunned bodies and enclosed them in a room empty of everything but a huge wooden conference table with claw feet jammed against the far wall and a nest of destroyed fabrics hidden underneath. A pair of reflective eyes watched them from the pile.

"If it doesn't attack, let's just lock him up inside," Gloin said as he wiped his sleeve across his forehead.

"These look different than the one in the lab," Bofur said. "They're all blue. Like a blueberry."

"They're around the active virus," Tauriel said. "The virus is alive and well in Erebor."

"Hey, won't locking them up in here, well, kill them? They'd all starve." Ori's voice was small, a mouse of a concern amongst the thundering hearts and heavy breaths.

"Crap," Bofur said.

"Our safety is more my concern than theirs. Lock 'em up and note the doors. Spray them with an X. We'll open them when we leave." Or not, Thorin thought. He wasn't heartless, but he was realistic. If it was between gollums or his friends and people, he had no qualms as to whom he owed his consideration.

The walkie-talkie sputtered to life and Balin's voice came out: "Check in."

Dwalin switched his on. "We've met with resistance, but we've taken care of it. Six."

"That's reason to turn back," came Balin's reasonable reply. 

The group shared a look. They hadn't gone far enough yet. "We'll continue. Leave two more here. Tell him," Thorin said.

The walkie-talkie crackled as Dwalin relayed the news. "The lads okay?"

"Yes. Checked in just before I tapped you."

"Alright." Thorin scanned his group, all faces stern and hard, none wanting to be left behind. He looked to his friend and a father to boot, "Gloin, you stay here with Bifur. Keep this hallway cleared and communications open."

Gloin and Bifur both nodded. "If it's what you want," Gloin said. 

Thorin grasped his friend's shoulder. He was down to seven, including himself. At this rate, they wouldn't get far, but maybe they could get to the mine. If not, they'd regroup and rethink the plan.

"The rest of us, we continue."

They progressed slowly through the ruins of Erebor. The stench of feces and urine, as well as rotten flesh, grew stronger the deeper then delved into the mountain. Ori and Dori were the next relays to be left behind, then Bofur and Nori. Thorin found himself alone with his best fighter and an elf, who was certainly no slouch herself.

Their encounters with the gollums were few, fewer than he expected, but the hairs on Thorin's arms had risen, giving him the heebie geebies. They slipped into a large room, a dining hall if he remembered correctly, for the mine workers. At one end was a staircase leading up and down. Down, into the gold mines.

"I don't like this," he said, trusting in his gut. Somewhere, someone watched them.

"Did you hear that?" Tauriel said.

They went still. No shifting, no breathing. Thorin strained his ears. At the far end of the hall, maybe coming from the stairs, was the pattering of feet. 

Thorin nodded at the elf. He slipped across the hall and flooded the floor with his LED light (flooded was wishful thinking. Really, his one thin beam coasted over the vast floor). The dining hall was swamped with gollums, then in a blink, they all rushed the trio's direction. Thorin spun around. "Run! Down the hall. Go, go!"

They dashed from the room. Thorin pulled a canister from his vest and popped it through the dining hall's door, then slammed it closed, letting the nerve gas infiltrate the room. The canister hissed out a stream of gas, an aerosol of the darts in their airguns. He wished they'd brought in a tanker truck of the stuff and had just gassed out the entire mountain.

"Are we going lethal yet?" Tauriel asked. 

"No," Thorin said. There were too many for just them. "Follow me."

"Fine, but King Under this Wasted Mountain, let's speed it up," the elf said. Thorin didn't have time to growl. Ahead of them, enclosing them within the hallways of stone, was another mob of gollums.

~~~

Gravel bit into the undercarriage of his car as he skidded to a halt next to Thorin's oversized truck, and Legolas jumped from the Mazda, Gimli by his side in an instant.

"What are you doing here?" Fili asked, jogging up to them. His eyes were wide, his motions broad and frantic. Kili was near the entrance of the city, hands on a walkie-talkie. "Do you have your bow?" 

"Yes," Legolas said. "How is everything?"

"Thorin, Tauriel and Dwalin are trapped in a room deep in the mountain, surrounded by hundreds of gollums. They're trapped!" Fili said, near hysterically. 

Gimli gripped Fili's arm. Fili's panic damped under his friend's touch. The rear door opened and Bilbo slipped out of the SUV with Gollum helping him along. 

"Bilbo, what's happened to you?" Kili dashed up to Bilbo, causing Gollum to flinch away and hide behind Bilbo.

"Bad reaction to the antivirus. I shouldn't… I can't go in there." It was a distressed confession, weighing heavy with his many failings. "I… Thorin's trapped?"

Legolas' chest tightened at the pain in Bilbo's voice. 

"Bilbo. Stay here. Gollum, will you come with us?" Legolas gripped Bilbo's hand, and Bilbo nodded, his own squeeze a pale reflection of Bilbo's usual strength.

"We'll give you nice fishies!" Gimli said in a falsely cheery voice.

"Go with them, Gollum. Warn them, if you can. Protect them."

Gollum stared at each of them, blinking blankly. Then he turned his huge eyes on Bilbo and said, "Leave hobbitses?"

"Just for a little while. We will come back." Legolas kneeled down next to the gollum and Bilbo. "We need you to help us. Show us where other gollums may be so we can avoid them."

"Gollum?" he said, though whether it was a word or just some guttural vocalization, Legolas wasn't sure.

"When we return you can stay with Bilbo and eat your fill of fish… fishies."

Gollum looked down at Bilbo and, to Legolas' shock, patted the hobbit's head. "Bilbo be okay?"

Bilbo nodded, and Legolas said, "Fili and Kili will watch over him."

In the background he could hear Kili say, "But we have to rescue Uncle! Gims is younger than me, he can't go in either." Legolas tried to ignore that argument. Right now, he could only focus on one trial at a time.

Gollum finally nodded. "Gollum will help." His eyes, frog-like in their protuberance, seemed sad.

"Thank you, Gollum."

Legolas walked around the car and popped open the back of his Mazda, pulling out his bow and quiver of arrows. He suited himself up with his ancient leather armor and strapped his silver blades to his back. He caught Gimli staring at him. His mouth slightly hanging open, eyes wide and bright.

"When we get back, you'll have to prance around in that for me," Gimli said in his deep voice (and didn't that do wonders to Legolas' body) and a waggle to his eyebrows. 

Legolas laughed and strode toward Gimli, taking him up for a deep kiss. "Anything for you," he whispered against Gimli's mouth. "I don't supposed you'd stay—"

"Would you ask that of me? Truly? If you demand it, I will," Gimli said, voice now neutral. "I know I can offer little in a fight compared to you."

"I will go quickly and quietly and try to avoid altercation, however that might not be possible. Gimli, meleth-nin, you are an adult, a dwarf of strength and wisdom, I leave the decision up to you."

"I don't want you to go without somebody watching your back," he glanced over at Gollum, "well somebody in addition to Gollum watching your back."

"Then come. Take up a weapon and keep your eyes sharp. Be cautious." They found a breastplate and axe for Gimli in Thorin's monstrous vehicle. Gimli tugged on some armored boots that wiggled a bit on his foot, but worked in a pinch.

Legolas dimmed down his glow until it faded, Fili watching him with awe. "Stay here. Protect Bilbo, I will retrieve Thorin. And yes, Gimli is coming with me." He looked at Fili, one eyebrow raised. 

Fili growled, but said, "Fine, just… don't let my little cousin get killed."

Legolas felt his stony shield melt just a moment, the glow flickering to life again. "I would let nothing touch Gimli. Trust in that."

Fili nodded. "I do."

Kili and Fili watched them mutely as they passed into the grate gates of Erebor.

~~~

"What? Legolas is here? With Gollum? What do they expect to do?" Dwalin demanded from the walkie-talkie.

"They could perhaps get around the mobs of gollums with Gollum around. He could warn them with other mutants infected by the virus were near," Tauriel mused. 

"That does not help us now," Thorin said. They had only two gas canisters left, and he kept those in reserve in case a new and desperate plan sprouted in his mind. The others hadn't dented the number of mutants trapping them within the pantry they'd hidden in. Thousands were out in the dining hall and surrounding halls. Thousands. What could one elf do?

"Legolas is quite skilled," Tauriel said, as if reading his mind.

"What?" Dwalin yelled. "He's brought Gimli? And Bilbo?" Dwalin tossed a glance over to Thorin, who had taken a step towards his friend. "Bilbo's not coming in because he's sick. Great."

Thorin snatched the walkie-talkie away from Dwalin. "What is wrong with Bilbo?" It took a moment to relay the information from one set of dwarves to the next. "Bad reaction to the antivirus, he figures. He's outside with Fili and Kili. Legolas and Gimli have entered Erebor, with Gollum."

"Have everyone keep their eyes open for them. I need to talk to Legolas."

"I must say, now is not the time for a scolding," Tauriel said.

"I don't want to scold him. I want to tell him where the Arkenstone is, so he can destroy it."

The elf and Dwalin stared at him as if the truth of their situation was just settling in.

~~~

Gimli gripped his axe. As any good Dwarven lad, he'd had axe training for fifteen years. He'd actually quite enjoyed training with the weapon, and swore if he got out of this alive, he would continue to train and be someone Legolas could truly trust at his back. As it was, he followed at a close, but not smothering distance to Legolas, allowing the elf to use all of his senses. His glow was dim, a faint light in the utter blackness. They each had a flashlight that they didn't currently use, because they were going in stealth mode. They had their faith and their lives in the hands of one of the enemy.

There was the soft patter of Gollum's four limbed walk, the near silent scuff of Legolas' boot (and didn't he look fucking edible in his leather armor and weapons! He wished he'd had his phone on hand to snap a shot of that for his lonely nights in the dorm) and the rather loud stomping of his mailed boots. He tried to be quiet, but… silence wasn't going to happen. He and Gollum had the best sight in the near darkness. Legolas had amazing distant sight in light, but was sorely limited in the blackness of the stone's embrace.

Gimli heard a noise, a low hushed whisper of language, not a gollum.

"Someone's down here," he said in a breath of a whisper.

"Address yourself. We don't want to be shot," Legolas told Gimli.

"Hey. Gimli here. Who's that?"

"Gimli!" A flashlight burst into light and aimed for them. They trotted across an intricate inlayed floor covered in decades of dust to Ori and Dori. Gollum skirted the far edges of the light. Gimli cursed the death of his dark vision. "You have to go find the Arkenstone."

"I thought we were going to go save Thorin," Gimli said. 

Legolas frowned. "I see." Gimli glared at Legolas. What did he see? (Right now, he couldn't see shit.) "No, Gimli, finding the stone and destroying it is the most important aim of this mission."

"What—Do you mean we're abandoning my King?" Gimli hissed. "We can't do that. I _won't_ do that."

The two brothers shared a desperate look. Obviously they agreed. Then Dori turned away from his brother and stiffened. "There's a gollum!" he said, aiming an airgun.

Legolas, quick as a viper, pressed down on Dori's gun. "That is our Gollum. Please do not hurt him." Gollum shied away even farther from the edge of light. 

Dori pointed the muzzle of his gun to the ground. "Sorry. I… I'm very uncomfortable down here. We hear the buggers scurrying around, but they don't come for us." Dori swallowed and flicked off the light. "Thorin demanded we find the stone, Gimli. He ordered it. Legolas is right, to save Erabor, to stop the virus, the stone must be destroyed."

"Well screw you. We can do both." Gimli planted his feet on the ground and glared at the others. Ori's eyes widened, a weak smile piercing his distress. Perhaps Gimli was naive and clueless, but he wouldn't abandon anyone down here, let alone Thorin.

Gollum hissed and backed his bum into Gimli's leg. "What is it, Gollum?" His vision began to reacquaint itself to the darkness. He caught the reflective glimmer of Gollum's eyes that captured the hint of Legolas' glow. He knew Legolas could turn it all the way off, but he'd be completely dead in the water without it.

"They're coming." Gollum beat the floor with his hands. "Hurry! We must go! We run!" 

"This way, we've a room," Dori hissed out. "You need to talk to Thorin."

They raced along a wall and dove into a dusty room. Ori slammed the door closed and barred it before Dori turned the light on again. Gimli looked all around. With the lights off most of the time he hadn't gotten any sense of how grand Erebor was, other than a few glimpses of floor and the cavernous echo of their footsteps. Carvings decorated the stone around the door frame, a geometric design. From the walls hung ratty tapestries and a framed picture that had a layer of dust over it. There was a jumble of wood that might have been a chair, and blocks of stone where a wall had been breached in the corner. He wondered just how secure this room really was.

Gollum was sniffing by the hole in the wall. In the light, it was evident his skin was already tinging blue.

Legolas was fiddling with the walkie-talkie. Gimli took it from him and turned it on. "Hello, Gimli here. How do we talk to Thorin?"

"Gimli, I cannot believe you are here. What were you thinking? And Legolas, if one hair on my son's beard is so much as split—" Gloin was cut off when Legolas hit the button.

"Gloin. Peace. No harm shall come to your son lest it is at the cost of my life, and I do not intend to die down here."

"Why…" crackle, "Why would you bring him?" Gimli's father sounded broken.

"He wished it, and I shall not stifle my Heart. Be proud, Gloin, your son is a warrior of Erebor and will help restore her it her former glory. Do not fret, for he is by my side."

Gimli and the other dwarves watched Legolas as he spoke to the walkie-talkie, reaching out to Gloin to alleviate his father's fear. Though his words gave Gimli pride, they also spurred a forceful temptation to take his One up into his arms and hold him, grip him, and never, ever let him go.

"Aye, Legolas. I will trust ya. I see I've no other choice."

"We have info from Thorin," someone else, Nori Gimli thought through the tinny walkie-talkie noise, "on how to get to the Arkenstone, if you're done with your father/soon-to-be son-in-law threat talk."

The directions were relayed to Gimli and Legolas, and Gimli hoped Gollum was paying attention too. "Thorin was going in non-lethal, too," Ori said as he looked over Legolas. "I presume you will not be?"

"The time for kindness is at an end. Perhaps we will have that luxury again once this is over, when the stone is gone, and we have retrieved your king."

"They're surrounded, you know," Dori said sadly. "Thousands."

Legolas' glow went out, then with an effort, it slipped back into a dull simmer of a underfed fire. "We will do what we can." Soon they were saying their good-byes. 

"Legolas," Gimli said before leaving the safety of the room. "If you need to… go all warrior on me… Trust that I will bring you back. You hear me?"

"I do, meleth-nin." Legolas tried to smile, but Gimli knew it wasn't in him at this moment. "It is why I have allowed myself to slip so far already." The muscles in Legolas' jaw clenched. "We go. Be prepared." And out into the infested halls they went. "Gimli, I need light." 

Gimli manned two flashlights while Legolas shot down gollum after gollum. Their own Gollum stayed to the edges, hiding behind Gimli as the elf destroyed the other mutants. He didn't seem to care much, to Gimli's relief. And it wasn't hard for Gimli to remove himself from the death. To see each expertly aimed arrows pierce some vital point felling their foes. One gollum wouldn't be a problem, but a horde of them would take down a strong dwarf in no time. Legolas was fast, swift and precise. His face was shadowed, and Gimli was spending most of his time finding the next target, but he caught glimpses of the cold expression, the tight grip of his jaw. Soon, they stopped coming, an arc of dead surrounded Legolas. He walked through the bodies, retrieving arrows where he could. Gimli followed, pulling some free himself, trying not to step in the blood.

"Lights out," Legolas ordered. Gimli clicked off the flashlight. "Gollum, we need to find a passageway in the left side of this room. Let us go quietly." Gollum led them along the path Thorin had spelled out for them.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

With Gollum leading them, holding them in a room as other mutants passed, or sometimes taking them in a long roundabout pathway where he said some of the other gollums were hidden, there was no more need to mop the floor with buckets of blood. Still, Legolas was primed. It scared Gimli a little, to know just how deadly his (boyfriend, fiancé, partner, lover?) One was. But then he pushed that away. Because he realized what really scared him was the idea of Legolas slipping away, retreating into his cold ways.

But Gimli would never let that happen again. He'd seen it and he'd stopped it before.

Gollum hopped down the stairs on hands and feet. Gimli flashed the light at a sign on every level. It was in Khuzdul, which Legolas couldn't read, which made Gimli feel a little more useful than as just a light bearer.

Gold Mine 7. "This is it. We go down here and look for a utility closet. Did they have utility closets back then?" He kept his voice low, but tried to keep it joyful, to remind Legolas he was there and who he was. He wasn't sure if it was necessary or even noticed, but he continued anyway.

"Third door after the scales," Legolas said, and into darkness they padded their way to the scales.

With flashes from the flashlight, they were able to find their way past a long row of metal scales ranging from small teaspoon-sized to a bowl that would hold a motorcycle. They counted the doors. One, two, three. Legolas listened at the door. At Legolas' feet, Gollum performed his own listening and sniffing.

Gollum began to whine, shaking his head and crawling away from the door. "Bad bad bad," he muttered to himself.

"Is there anyone inside, Gollum?"

"Bad thing." Gollum hid behind Gimli again. 

"I'll open it," Gimli said. "You be prepared to shoot whatever jumps out at you." Legolas nodded. Gimli, flashlight on and illuminating the entire door, gripped the knob and flung open the door.

Behind him Gollum squeaked and the patter of his feet bounced off the walls. Legolas gasped. Gimli ignored them, because resting on a shelf, reflecting a rainbow of lights from the flashlight (that slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor—good thing it was heavy duty), was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

It was a star. A piece of star brought down from the night sky. Lights twinkled off it, shifting and swirling, calling Gimli towards it. He wanted it. For his very own. It was precious.

Its beauty was like nothing—nothing Gimli had ever seen. He reached out for it. To hold it. To cradle it to his chest, for it was the Heart of the Mountain and Gimli would cherish it like nothing—

A sword sliced through the air, coming down on the center of the Arkenstone and sent it shattering into a million little pieces.

Gimli gasped, flinched from the flying gem shards and threw his head back to scream with longing and loss. 

"Meleth-nin? Gimli, my Gimli."

Hands clutched at him, words tickled his ears, but all he could do was stare at the slivers of majesty that no longer sparkled.

"Gimli?"

He was shaken, his entire body flung about. His precious… "My precious," he whined through numb lips.

A firm hand tore him away from the closet, and Gimli blinked. "You are precious to me," Legolas said, holding him, pressing Gimli's face into his chest. A hand petted his hair. "You are my wonder and my joy, dear Gimli. lle ier inauthnin. Don't go. Don't leave me."

Gimli clutched Legolas' arms, took in his scent. The star. It was no more. Something in his heart shattered with the stone. The most beautiful—

"Gimli. Love. Look at me."

Kisses fell upon his face, over his scratching beard, upon his cheeks, nose and lips. That ache, so deep and heart-rooted began to slip away, fade to something dull and age-old, like a childhood injury. "Legolas? I—" The gem was a busted memory, but Legolas thrived in his arms. Both his and Legolas' skin had gone cold with a hint of blue. He was vaccinated, right? It shouldn't have done that to him. This close to the source, perhaps the antivirus wasn't strong enough. 

It was nothing. Just a rock. Sure, he was of Durin's line, but he would not fall to Gold Sickness because of a stupid rock. He cared nothing for the pieces of stone. "Are we done with this?" he said, cataloguing the splinters of gemstone. "Let's get out of here."

Legolas kissed him one more time, slipping his arms reluctantly from Gimli's body. "Gollum, take us back up, please."

"We've got to find a way to save Thorin," Gimli said, finally looking away.

"Yes," Legolas agreed, eyes sharp, digging into the dark around them. "We will not forsake him."

~~~

Bilbo blinked himself awake into the worried expression of Kili. "Bilbo! You've come back to us." The young dwarf petted the side of Bilbo's face with the back of his hand, oh so gently. "Your fever's down. Do you want water?"

Bilbo nodded. Fili thrust a metal canteen into Kili's hands and he slowly tilted it so Bilbo could take a sip. "I feel much better now. Maybe my body's finally righted itself." He pushed himself to sitting and took in the worried expression of Thorin's nephews. "What news?"

"We haven't heard anything for a while." Fili waved the walkie-talkie in the air. "Just regular check-ins. Everyone's still alive. Thorin is still trapped."

Bilbo coughed, his chest felt very tight, but he could breathe well enough. "Legolas?"

Fili shook his head. "No word."

"I have an idea. Not sure if it will work, but maybe it will help get them out of there and back to us." It had come to him in his fever dreams. It might not be pretty, and it certainly wasn't non-lethal. It made him a little sick to think about it. 

"Tell us!"

~~~

"What are our provisions?" Thorin asked. The three of them sprawled upon the ground of their tomb. Dwalin was near the door, walkie-talkie lying forgotten in his lap.

"Food for a few days, water for less. I can slip into a state of near hibernation to reduce my own need," Tauriel said. Dwalin stared at her.

"Let's give 'em a chance." Dwalin pulled at his knuckledusters, took them off, put them on again.

Thorin ground his teeth. There was no chance. No hope. Those mutants were still outside the door. They had two canisters of gas left and some tranq darts and Tauriel had a quiver of arrows and he had his sword, Dwalin his axes, and a few days of food and water.

Could they outwait the gollums? For how long? Until they were too weak to fight efficiently?

His hope and prayers were with Legolas and the destruction of the Arkenstone. With that, the virus would no longer be viable and the infections would stop. They'd still need to do something with the gollum infestation, but at least nobody else would fall to its sick affliction.

His fingers caught on something in his pocket. A ring of keys. He pulled it out and looked at the key Bilbo had given him. Thorin smiled to himself. Bilbo, his delight. His treasure. A key to a hobbit's home was a great honor; it was like the welcome mat to his heart. He hoped Bilbo could move on after this. Thorin blinked his eyes, sniffed. He was being ridiculous.

The walkie-talkie crackled and Nori came out and said, "We're on our way. Get ready."

Thorin shared a look with Dwalin. Dwalin hit the button, "Repeat… well, what the fuck do you mean, Nori?"

"We're coming. The Arkenstone is destroyed, and it seems the gollums are all flustered by it. They're biting themselves and falling off walls and stuff. Legolas and Gimli have joined us and we have the rest of the nerve gas. We're going to get you out."

Dwalin gaped at Thorin. Then Dwalin fiddled with the walkie-talkie and said, his voice breaking with laughter, "Hell yeah. Let us know. We'll charge out when you give the word."

"Gas masks in place," Thorin said with unveiled relief. 

Tauriel climbed to her feet. "I don't care about your compassion right now, Thorin. I'm using my bow." She fiddled with her mask, tightening the cords around her head. Thorin and Dwalin donned their own.

Thorin nodded his agreement and pulled out his sword, ready for this final play.

"Now," crackled the walkie-talkie.

Dwalin yanked open the door. Gas filled the air, making it difficult to see even with their LED lights. "This way," someone yelled. 

From the gas cloud a gollum lunged for Thorin; without a thought he sliced it in two. They were soft little beasts, felled with little effort, and he felt almost bad. Like shooting deer in a paddock. Tauriel's bow sang by his ear, and to his right he could hear Dwalin roar.

"Over here!" It was Ori. Thorin could hear his piercing cry over the roar of gollums. He aimed for it, taking down one weak foe after another. Maybe killing a thousand with just him, Dwalin and Tauriel hadn't been a fancy.

A light drew them closer. Out of the haze he could see his company, back to back, defending each other as the swarm took them over. "Thorin!" Gloin cried out. "Get your butt over here." He could see Legolas shooting in to the mayhem. Tauriel went to stand by him and the two elves hailed arrows into the mass. As the Company regrouped, Thorin noticed the gollums falling over, the gas finally taking its toll. He also noticed—they were no longer blue.

"You destroyed it?" he called.

"Yes, Thorin. The Arkenstone is gone," the elf said, arrow knocked at the ready for any gollum that got too close.

"Bloody brilliant thing it was too," Thorin heard Gimli mutter. He expected a chuckle from Legolas, or some response to his complaint, but the elf was too focused, his glow (as well as Tauriel's) nearly non-existent. Slowly, the group backstepped, following splashes of paint formed in rough arrows on the floor. That was going to be a killer to scrub off once they were ready to move back in.

Not to mention the blood.

But it wasn't as bad as it could be, because the gollums fell one by one from the gas, and the arrows and blade slices ceased. The group turned en mass and fled from the inner bowls of Erebor. Thorin ran with the others, mind swirling with awe, that they were alive, that they had made it. 

"What will you do now?" Legolas asked him as they trotted side by side. "The gollums remain, though depending on how healthy they may be without the stone to sustain them, they might not remain for long."

"We'll have to observe and move when the time is right. My cousin Dain will certainly help. It will be home again."

"Will you give up your home in Gondor, then? Your company? The lengths you've gone to for sustainable construction?"

They slowed to a walk, and Gimli watched Thorin from Legolas' other side. "What about Bilbo?" Gimli asked. His hand was on Legolas' back and Thorin could see that with every step closer to the sunlight, Legolas' glow was brightening.

Bilbo. A gem more exquisite than the Arkenstone. A person more home than a city in the mountain.

They passed the third entrance gate, then the second. Cheers roared up from Fili and Kili who were left outside with the cell phones and Bilbo. "You made it!" His nephews threw themselves at Thorin, and he clutched onto them, petting their hair and pressing his forehead into theirs. He loved his sister-sons. Cherished them. 

This would have to be a group decision.

Then he saw Bilbo. His skin had gone pasty, and he walked with a slump to his entire frame, but his eyes sparkled when they landed on Thorin. "Thorin! Thank the Valar!" He skipped up to Thorin, nearly tripping over a fist-sized stone, and Thorin caught and held him, burying his nose in his hobbit's hair that smelled of sweat and was a little sour, but it was Bilbo, and they were there, alive, and together.

"Legolas, I think it's time I have words with you," Gloin said. Thorin released Bilbo. Gloin poked Legolas in the chest, his face as red as his hair. "What were ya thinking, bringing in my boy."

"He is not a boy, Gloin." Thorin had to hand it to Legoas, he did not flinch once. "He is an adult dwarf. I could not have succeeded without him. The stone would still be sound. Thorin would still be trapped. Without Gimli, your quest would have failed."

Gimli pushed himself between Legolas and his father. "Adad, please. It was my choice. I'll not have my One molly-coddling me."

Gloin's mouth snapped shut, and the wheels in his head seemed to have finally caught up to reality. For Thorin, the problem with most elves was their superiority complex. They were better skilled, had better memories and more knowledge. How else could they not be with an endless lifespan. Legolas exuded none of that. He would never treat Gimli as less than him, or as something that needed to be cossetted and shut away from the world. With Legolas, Gimli would live fully and happily, and Thorin saw the moment on Gloin's face when he realized the truth of it.

Gloin turned away and stomped off.

Gimli watched him, face going cold until Legolas gripped his arm. "Gimli, I wanted… to, ah, talk to you. In private. About, something… important."

Thorin blinked at the utter ungracefulness of the elf. 

"Thorin, I'd like to talk to you about something too," Bilbo whispered, ghosting his breath along Thorin's ear. "Very important things." He grabbed Thorin's butt.

Oh! Thorin could think of one very important thing that just came up too.

~~~

Though privacy was a sparce thing out here on the planes before Erebor, they did find an outcropping of boulders a couple hundred yards away. The minute they were out of sight, Legolas' mouth was clamped onto his. 

"Oh Gimli. You're safe, and I'm safe and I just…" He grappled for Gimli's armor, and who was Gimli to slow down his elf when he obviously needed some special (and personal) attention?

Gimli's armor clattered to the ground (so much for even pretending they were doing anything but—his adad was so going to give him _that_ look) and then his shirt was gone and his trousers disappeared in a flash. Standing in the open in his all-together should have made him anxious and a little bit shy, but soon enough Legolas was also bare to the sky and nothing could make him feel anxious with a bare Legolas pressed against his equally bare body.

"Gimli… I want… Need to be in you."

Gimli's own shock at surviving, of finding his way from the Arkenston's call, also drove him to this homage of living. "Yes, ghivashel, just slow down. What do we have for lubrication?"

Legolas blue eyes clutched onto his own. Then blinked. "Uh, oh, I know." He twirled Gimli around, and before he could even register what Legolas was going on about, he felt his ass cheeks pried apart and the dart of a slick wet tongue slide up his crack.

"Oh fuck me raw," he cursed, leaning forward against the granite stone to give Legolas better access.

"I'm trying to avoid the raw part," Legolas said for a moment, then returned to his sloppy work.

Legolas' tongue danced across his hole. Gimli couldn't help but twitch and wiggle under its attention. When that crafty muscle pushed past his entrance, he gurgled deep in his chest. He felt so filthy, having Legolas tonguing him there, but he couldn't deny the sensations, so he pushed back onto Legolas' face and earned a heated chuckle.

Then a finger slipped in, next to the tongue, shifting around inside him. He could feel the dual exploration, a finger pressing up, the tongue pushing into his body, and it was odd. Then another finger, their reach deepening, the stretch glorious.

"Oh, Legolas. Oh, my love. Oh, twist your finger up... More. Deeper." And Gimli gasped and bucked when Legolas hit his prostate. "Oh, fuck, I'm ready... Just, fuck me already."

Legolas removed his fingers, curling them up as he pulled them out. "If you insist, meloth-nin." Gimli glanced over his shoulder, trying to catch his breath, and watched Legolas fumble with a spit slicked hand and his own cock, making small broken sounds of frustration.

Gimli wiggled his ass at Legolas. "I'm waiting."

Legolas growled, his sapphire blue eyes dilated and feral. Legolas erection jutted out, flushed red and eager. Pre-come glistened at the head. 

"Remember, just... line yourself up and ... push. But go slowly at first."

Legolas looked up from where he had been staring at Gimli's ass, his cock gripped in his hand. "Slow. Of course." And he returned his attention to the task at hand. Gimli could feel the blunt end of Legelas' full arousal press between his spread cheeks and over his prepared entrance. He reminded himself to relax as Legolas moved against his ring of muscles. Pushing back, his elf popped in. Legolas' breath caught. Gimli felt the blood in his temple, in his heart, in his ass pounding away.

"Oh, Gimli..." Legolas gasped and made a gibbering noise that managed to sound both worshipful and debauched at the same time. His hands clutched at Gimli's waist, branding bruises into his skin. With a slow glide Legolas inched his way into Gimli until his long erection had been fully sheathed, Legolas' hips joined to Gimli's backside. Gimli felt incredibly full.

"All right?" Legolas asked, his voice tense. Gimli nodded. "I'm going to start." Gimli nodded again and gave his hips a little jerk. Legolas growled, then pulled back and drove in again. Still slow and gentle, but as he picked up speed, Gimli immediately bought into the allure of this bottoming thing. He tilted his hips and earned himself a better angle. 

Gimli braced himself against the rock as Legolas kissed along his back, murmuring in beat with his thrusts. Then Legolas did something, shifted his angle, and Gimli felt a sharp thrust of pleasure course through his lower body. 

A high, trembling cry tore from his throat, certainly reaching the gathering of dwarves near the entrance of Erebor, carrying the sound of agonized pleasure and the slap of flesh against flesh. His knees went watery, and his sweat dripped onto the stone as they rocked against each other, lost to the heady scent of lust. Legolas' labored breaths quieted, his thrusts went erratic. "Gimli," he keened, taking up Gimli's erection in his own questing grasp. Legolas plunged into Gimli's body when Gimli finally splattered the stone with surge of come. 

"Oh my." It was a breathy benediction, and Legolas followed him, tipping over the edge into oblivion, pulsing within Gimli's channel, and he could feel every twitch and surge. Gimli growled low in delight, his body going limp with exhaustion.

Legolas slumped against his back. "I don't want to move," he said between kisses to Gimli's shoulders and head.

"You've got to. I can't hold us up much longer." 

When Legolas pulled out the squelch of come (and quite a lot of it) was kind of disgusting. "Here, use my shirt." Legolas cleaned Gimli up, then himself, beaming the entire time. 

From somewhere near the vehicles Kili called out, "Are you two done yet? Bilbo and Thorin have been done for ages."

"Kili, stuff it!" Bilbo called out. 

Gimli laughed and kissed Legolas.

~~~

They couldn't find Gollum. Bilbo fretted. Guilt and worry were etched into his kind face. After a few expeditionary forays back into Erebor, they found a scattered gollums wandering around, dazed and not showing any interest in the dwarves. Thorin and Tauriel talked about bringing in a team to clear out (humanely) the rest of the gollums, who didn't seem capable of fending for themselves and appeared to be no longer a threat.

While the rest of the Company was full in celebration, Gloin wouldn't look at Legolas and Gimli once they'd rejoined the group after their little tussle in the stones. He'd wandered off on his own, and Oin went to sit by his side and share a pipe with him.

Bilbo, though still feeling a little sickly, also felt amazingly calm and happy. His eyes followed Thorin wherever the king went, a small smile always ghosting across his lips.

Gimli was not gone from classes for the week he had planned, but still took a day off to spend it naked with Legolas in his suites at his father's house. Reading through websites on gay sex on the internet, they tried many different suggestions and laughed at others. 

And shivered at yet more. 

"Inserting a metal rod up my urethra does not sound... erotic. I vote no on that one." Legolas' eyes could have popped out of his sockets, and Gimli laughed and held him and kissed him all over.

Bofur returned to Smaug's and quickly reopened the bar, much to the patrons' delight. Tauriel did not return as a waitress, which made a few diehard fans very disappointed, but he hired a new elf with dark flowing hair and big dimples that pleased most of the bargoers.

All in all, the expedition was a success, and nearly everyone came out happy.

"Adad, please, can we just sit down and have a family dinner with him or something?" Gimli couldn't make his father accept the fact that he was engaged to an elf. His father kept his nose in the paper, ignoring Gimli. Gimli was waiting for the disinheritance letter to arrive in the mail.

Gimli's mother passed through the room with her briefcase, returning from her day at the office. "That sounds like a lovely plan, Gimli," Adel said. "Why not tonight." She leveled a look at Gloin. Gloin swallowed and thrust his newspaper aside. 

"Fine. I'll make steaks."

Gimli glowered at his father. "Sounds good. I'll make some pasta and a salad too."

"What, your leaf-eater too good for steaks?"

"He doesn't eat much meat, Adad. He doesn't like it." 

Gimli picked up his phone and called Legolas. His heart warmed when Legolas greeted him with his effervescent joy. "Gimli! How are you?"

"Fine, Legolas. Do you have dinner plans?" 

"If you're asking, I'm doing something with you."

Gimli chuckled, then asked, "Why not something at my parents' house... with my parents." He braced himself.

"Oh, yes! I will be there? What time? Should I bring something? I can get some growlers, does Gloin like beer?"

"Yes, that would be a great success." Gimli grinned into the phone. "I look forward to seeing you."

"Me, too," Legolas said, warmth infiltrating his words. Then they made kissy noises at each other until he hung up. His father was glaring at him like Gimli'd lost his mind.

~~~

The doorbell rang, and Gimli rushed to the door, threw it open, and then thew himself into Legolas' arms. (There was, in any case, a lot of throwing.) Legolas had to juggle the growler he brought (Smaug's clearly stamped on the side), but he easily gathered up Gimli, and they pressed their foreheads together.

"You seem happy," Legolas said into the side of his neck, where he was currently nuzzling. "Is your father likely to be swayed to our side?"

"Not sure, but mother is, and having her in our corner means adad only has his stubbornness on his. Which is mighty in and of itself, but I think you can wear him down." Gimli brushed his hands down Legolas' long hair, twining his blunt fingers into the silky lengths until he fished out the bead. "You are so beautiful." Legolas' glow shimmered at the compliment, and a warm blush flushed over his pale skin.

"My silver-tongued dwarf. You delight me at every turn." He leaned in and kissed Gimli, a gentle brushing of lips, until someone cleared his throat nearby and Legolas leaped away like a misbehaving dwafling.

"Mister Gloin, sir, thank you for having me for dinner." Legolas bowed.

"Legolas Greenleaf, welcome to my home," Gloin said through tight lips. 

"I brought some Bofur Brown ale from Smaug's. I hope you'll enjoy it." Legolas held out the over-sized bottle of beer. Gloin took the growler from the elf with an appreciative nod. "Like Granite Stout better, but this isn't too bad. Thank you, Legolas."

Adel strode into the foyer, her hands out in greeting, wearing a light dress of bright summer reds and greens, her braids immaculate like she'd just redone them for their guest. "You must be Legolas. It's a pleasure to meet my son's One. Please, come in."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Adel, please," she said with frankiness. "Would you like some wine?"

Legolas beamed at Gimli's mother, his glow nearly making her squint. "That would be lovely. Thank you. You've a lovely home, Adel."

"Oh, thank you, dear." She led Legolas (her arm wrapped around his), Gimli, and a grumbling (but a bit enamored with the beer) Gloin into the kitchen, where she poured him some wine (of a seven year old vintage Gimli knew she was keeping for a special occasion). Then she poured herself a glass and raised her brows in question at Gimli.

"I'll have some beer, Amad."

They enjoyed the drinks and small chatter, though his father kept scowling any time Gimli or Adel laughed at something Legolas said. Legolas complimented the meal, and even took a tiny bite of steak, admiring Gloin for his great skill at grilling. Adel had bought a frozen cream puff pie that they had for dessert. Legolas kept up his end of the conversation well enough, and didn't even flinch when Gimli massaged his legs with his bare foot under the table. He couldn't help it. They had hardly touched for hours.

Finally, dinner was over, and Legolas was making to leave.

"Legolas, if you have a moment," Gloin said, glaring over at Gimli's fiancé.

"Of course, Gloin." 

Gimli watched nervously at Legolas followed Gloin to the den. His mother grabbed his arm and pulled him close. "He's lovely, Gimli."

"I know."

"I can see his love for you in his eyes. And don't worry, your father will too."

Gimli snorted. He could hope.

~~~

Legolas stilled himself to halt his desire to shift from one foot to the other. He settled his face into a somewhat neutral, yet hopeful and respectful expression (one he'd perfected a thousand years before for his own father.)

"Why would an immortal elf tie himself to a mortal?" Gloin asked, his back still to Legolas as he faced out the big bay window on a neatly trimmed backyard cast in late evening dimness. 

"I hear my Heart Song through him. He is my Heart. I cannot deny him. Eternity means nothing without him." And it was true. All of it.

Gloin turned on him, face red and angry. Legolas took a step away, his facade cracking under the heat of the dwarf's emotions. He held his hands out, open, a sign of peace.

"Gloin, what makes you so angry?' he asked.

"What makes me angry! You... why did his One have to be you?"

Legolas couldn't answer such questions, so he remained silent. 

Gloin breathed, then calmed. He cleared his throat and slipped his hands into his pockets. "You'll be good to him."

"Of course!" Legolas' brows bunched in confusion at the foolishness of the question. "I would sooner end my days now than cause him harm."

Gloin looked away, then sighed. "I can see it in your face, when you let your guard down. You've this elfish dignity that just pisses me off. But, yer not like that with Gimli. Yer not a statue with my son."

Legolas tilted his head... and he dropped the neutrality he had erected, letting this dwarf, this father, see all of the love and joy and desire in his face (well maybe not all the desire, but back at Erebor that cat had already fled the bag.)

"Oh, stones. He loves you, I can see that. You've my approval, Legolas."

Legolas cheered and raced towards the kitchen. "Gimli! Gimli! We've Gloin's approval!" He stopped and turned back towards Gloin. "Thank you, sir. You've made us very happy."

Gimli charged from the kitchen side of the house and collided into Legolas' body, then he wrapped Legolas up and lifted him from the ground. Legolas laughed. "I knew he would! Eventually." Gimli released Legolas with a laugh and bowed to his father. "Thank you, Adad."

Gloin smiled, and the remaining weight on Legolas' heart lifted. Until he said, "Let's go celebrate with a DragonFire (tm)."

~~~

Their small table was surrounded by friends and strangers alike. Thorin and Bilbo were there. Bofur, of course. Tauriel had even made an appearance (Bofur had dropped her aline and she'd rushed over). Loni showed, as well as Bifur and Dwalin, though the rest of the Company were tied up.

"All right, who gets the DragonFire (tm)?" Bofur asked, carrying it through the crowd to their table on a round tray. He lifted the pint mug and set it at the center of the table. Legolas looked over to Gloin, thinking this was his battle to prove himself to the dwarf.

"We'll both drink it," Gimli said. Gloin sputtered, than laughed. Legolas inwardly felt relief. 

Tauriel hmmed. "That doesn't quite fit the rules, but we'll let it slide this time. Since, you'll be starting your lives together, why not begin with sharing a DragonFire (tm)?"

Bofur waved his hands through the air in surrender. "Whatever you decide, just... it's time to drink!"

"Come on, Legolas, drink it!" Bilbo cheered, wiggling in his chair. Thorin, beside him (always beside him) laughed his deep, warm laugh.

"I'll go first, then you?" Legolas said to Gimli. 

"Or, I could go first, and then you could catch the tail."

"If you go first," Legolas said with a sly grin, "I might not get my chance." And he grabbed the mug and swallowed down three deep swallows, feeling the burn of it as it scorched its way down his esophagus. Spicy and full of flavor, that quickly corroded away once the heat hit.

He gasped, slamming the mug on the table, and Gimli took it up and with four long pulls, finished the raging drink of death.

"Oh, that is foul," Legolas said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, waiting for the dizzy spell to cease. His throat still burned. "Water! Please."

Bilbo (the little bastard) was giggling as he pushed a glass of water over to Legolas.

"Don't drink water, that will only make it worse." Bofur handed each of them a glass of whole-fat milk. "Drink this."

And Legolas did, and another. Gimli guzzled down his own, spewing some through his nose when he couldn't stop laughing. The people around them cheered. Thorin slapped him on his back, enough to make him choke on his third glass of milk.

"What is in that thing?" Legolas demanded.

Bofur pushed his hat up farther on his head. "Ancient family secret." He wiggled his eyebrows and Legolas knew they should have kyped the recipe.

"Hey, Legolas... your glow." Gimli reached out and brushed his hand along Legolas' arm. Legolas looked down. Blue. He was glowing a vibrant sky blue. He stared up at his Heart and smiled, a goofy besotted thing, he knew. He'd always wanted to glow blue.

And he'd always wanted his Heart Song too.

This was proving to be a good Age.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who has read this story! It's my first Hobbit/LOTR fic and my first AO3 fic, so many milestones were hit. I hope you enjoyed the story and it pleased you for a few hours of your life! cheers!


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